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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252188">12 Days of Deanmas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkinghardhardlythinking/pseuds/thinkinghardhardlythinking'>thinkinghardhardlythinking</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:34:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>47,503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkinghardhardlythinking/pseuds/thinkinghardhardlythinking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a hard year for Y/N. And for Dean. But he has a project to try and get her in the Christmas, no wait, the Deanmas spirit. Chapter 6 is 18+/NSFW but all the rest is tame and fluffy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester &amp; You, Dean Winchester/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey…what we watchin’?” Dean said, pushing your door open as he wandered into your room, eating from a bowl of leftover chilli and settling on the bed next to you, his back against the headboard.</p><p>You let out a frustrated noise. “There’s nothing on. So….this? I guess…” You said, resignedly.</p><p>“Christmas movie?”</p><p>“Yeah, I think they start playin’ them the day after Halloween?”</p><p>“Is it any good?”</p><p>“Oh…no….it’s awful….she’s a sad, lonely, single baker….and she loves baking but the guy at the bank is trying to shut down her bakery because it’s not profitable….so, I think he’s going to go and try and convince her to sell the business….something tells me by the end of the movie they’re going to be in ugly Christmas sweaters confessing their love for each other in the snow…”</p><p>“Ahh, getting your Christmas on, huh?”</p><p>“Hardly. There’s literally nothing on.” You said, truthfully.</p><p>“You want some?” He said, offering you a fork loaded with chilli. You leaned over and took the bite. Man, it was still so good.</p><p>“Alright, sad baker lady and banker dude it is.” He said, settling back and focussing on the screen.</p><p>Forty minutes later, you tried to restrain your smile as you watched him, eyes wide and rapt. The banker was giving his stuffy boss a speech about the meaning of Christmas and how the lonely baker had taught him what it all really meant. Dean looked genuinely hooked by the movie. It was adorable. By the time the townsfolk of the small town had all banded together and helped her raise the money to save the bakery he was leaning forward, excitedly. And as the couple kissed in the snow just before the end credits, he turned to you with a huge, childlike smile on his face.</p><p>You weren’t sure what expression was on your face but you wish you’d checked it before he saw because you watched him rearrange his features into a more unimpressed face of fake nonchalance.</p><p>“It’s OK…you’re allowed to have a little festive joy.” You said, meaning it. It had been nice to see him so sweetly happy. He was like a big kid and the happiness was infectious.</p><p>“What? That? No!” He said, unconvincingly. “Lame!”</p><p>He took the empty bowl from his lap and put it on the nightstand by the side of your bed before relaxing back against the pillows.</p><p>“What about you? Baker and banker finding love at Christmas didn’t do it for you?”</p><p>You shrugged and shuffled down the bed a bit so you were eye level with each other.</p><p>“Meh. It was fine.”</p><p>“Not feelin’ so festive this year?”</p><p>“What? No….I’m…perfectly festive.”</p><p>He raised an eyebrow at you, radiating disbelief. “Am I supposed to buy that? Or am I just supposed to let you do whatever self delusion thing this is that’s playing out right now?”</p><p>“It’s been a weird year.” You said, quietly. He pouted and tilted his head, eyebrow still raised, to show that he agreed but it wasn’t a good enough explanation. “I can’t feel what I don’t feel, Dean.”</p><p>“OK….but what if I could make you feel something?” He said, and you didn’t mean to feel the flutter in your belly, or perhaps slightly lower, when he did but it was hard not to. It wasn’t just what he’d said and how open to misinterpretation the words were but also that deep, low voice of his as he said them.</p><p>“What?” You said, slightly flustered.</p><p>He must’ve read your face, because he smiled, slightly embarrassed as he realised how his words might have sounded. He lowered his eyes and licked his lips, just lightly, before looking back at you.</p><p>“I meant…there is nothing to hunt…me and Sam have been looking and nothing, zilch, squat…so…we got time…what if I could try and get you in the Christmas spirit? Like…a little project to keep me from losing my mind of boredom?”</p><p>“A project?” You said, feeling off put at the very suggestion.</p><p>“Yeah….Oooh!” He paused, his face full of excitement, his green eyes wide and grin stretching out across his handsome face. It was the look he got when he thought of a pun or a ‘joke’ he was particularly proud of. “The Twelve Days of Deanmas!….ahhh? ahhh??!” He nudged you with his elbow to try and get you to laugh and despite your Grinch like mood, it wasn’t long before you were.</p><p>“I’m fine! I don’t want to be a ‘project’!” You said, through your laughter.</p><p>“Look, I need something to do….and you need some Christmas spirit….two birds…one stone…What d’ya say?”</p><p>You looked at him, his eager face, smiling at you, asking you to say yes. It wasn’t a fair fight. How could anyone say no to him?</p><p>“OK…fine.” You said, shaking your head even as you said it.</p><p>“Yes!!” He said, sitting up and getting off your bed.</p><p>“Where are you going?” You asked.</p><p>“I need to go get project supplies.” He said, raising his eyebrows at you in an expression that showed this should have been obvious.</p><p>“Urgh! Whatever, Poindexter.” You said, but you could hear the smile in your voice and so could he.</p><p>“Twelve Days of Deanmas! This is gonna be so good.” He said, practically sailing out of the room.</p><p>He had only been gone a minute or so when you got up, wondering if there was any more chilli left in the bunker kitchen. You made your way down the corridor but stopped just outside when you heard his voice, as he talked to Sam inside. You really shouldn’t eavesdrop, you thought, but it was too late, you already were.</p><p>“….a ‘project’?” Sam asked. “To get Y/N in the Christmas spirit?”</p><p>“The Deanmas spirit.” Dean replied, clearly trying to get the name to stick.</p><p>You heard Sam huff all the way outside the door. “Is that a good idea?”</p><p>“What? She always loved Christmas…you remember what she was like….with the movies and the music and decorating the tree….”</p><p>“Yeah, but Dean…that was before….”</p><p>“Sam, I’m not pushing, OK? But it used to make her so happy….”</p><p>“Dean, I just….are you sure this isn’t about…something else? She’s been through a lot, this year.”</p><p>“You think I don’t know that?! And, no! Sam….No. It’s not about anything else.” He sounded adamant. “I just think….we don’t have a case and I might as well. It’s not a big deal.”</p><p>“But Dean-“</p><p>“I’ll be back soon.“</p><p>Crap! He was going to end up walking past you.</p><p>You walked in trying to look like you hadn’t just been loitering and listening.</p><p>“Oh, hey!” You said, trying to sound casual. “You’re still here.”</p><p>“Not anymore.” He said, winking at you as he walked past. “Chilli’s in the fridge.”</p><p>“Oh, OK.” You said, wondering how he always managed to do that. Always managed to know just what you wanted. Or needed.</p><p>“Hey Sam.” You said, making your way towards the fridge. “How was town?”</p><p>“Yeah, fine. I got everything on the list…but I wasn’t anticipating ‘supplies,’ so…” He said, taking beers from the bag and putting them on the refrigerator shelf, pausing only to hand you the tub of leftover chilli. “How you doin’?”</p><p>“I’m OK.”</p><p>“Yeah?” He said, pausing from restocking the fridge to look at you, his brow furrowing in concern before he smiled at you kindly. “You sure about that?”</p><p>“I feel bad that Dean feels like he has to do a whole ‘project’….just to make me feel Christmassy.”</p><p>“Don’t you mean ‘Deanmassy’?” He asked, putting in the last few beers and shutting the door. You laughed as you grabbed two spoons from the drawer and offered him one, putting the open tub between you on the island.</p><p>“Not everyone gets all the ‘Deanmas’ feels. I didn’t realise it was gonna be a big deal….but…I guess I used to, right? Before?”</p><p>“You heard that, huh?”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…but yeah….”</p><p>“He’s just trying to cheer you up. You don’t have to be anyway you aren’t or feel anything you that you don’t.”</p><p>“He was so excited. Is so excited.” You felt the guilt stirring within you. “He wants the old me back so much, Sam. I don’t know if that’s gonna happen. I don’t want to let him down….again.”</p><p>“Hey…” Sam said, pausing until you looked up at him. “…you have never let either of us down. And he’s just bored here without a case…and he wants to cheer you up a bit. Dean…he likes Christmas…more than he shows…more than he’s been able to enjoy in the past…so even though Deanmas is sort of for you…it’s also just an excuse to do some stuff he finds fun…so don’t…get too in your head about  it, OK? Just try and enjoy it…You could use a little fun…after….everything.” He looked at you expectantly.</p><p>“Yeah, OK.” You said, knocking his spoon out of the way to claim a particularly lush looking lump of chilli.</p><p>“I can’t believe you just did that while I was giving you a heartfelt speech…” He said, watching as you chewed.</p><p>“Speech? It was barely an aside…” You said, after you’d swallowed, smiling as he shook his head at you, though he was smiling too.</p><p>By the time Dean got back, you and Sam were sat at the kitchen table and he was telling you stories.</p><p>“-and then you busted in and saved our asses.”</p><p>“I did?”</p><p>“Hey, it happened more than once.” Dean said, joining in.</p><p>“I remember a couple of times.” You said, laughing. “And I remember you guys returning the favour too.”</p><p>“One for all and all for one.” Sam said, raising his beer bottle to clink against yours.</p><p>“What case were you talkin’ about?”</p><p>“The Werewolves. In Tallahassee.” Sam explained as he got up to go nose around the bags Dean had put down on the counter. You watched as he smiled, looking into the bags. “Well, I’ve got some laundry to do so…you guys enjoy Deanmas….”</p><p>You watched Sam leave and then turned to look at Dean, staring at you.</p><p>“So….Tallahassee ring any bells?”</p><p>“No. Sorry.”</p><p>“Hey….you don’t have anything to apologise for.” He said, softly but insistently. “It wasn’t that long before….It’ll come back when it comes back.”</p><p>“And if it doesn’t?”</p><p>“Then it doesn’t. You’re fine. Healthy and safe. That’s all that matters.”</p><p>You knew he meant it. Kind of. But you also knew he wanted you to remember. And as hard as you tried you couldn’t. In fact, the harder you tried, the harder it was. It’d been months now and although some stuff had come back there were still huge gaps in your memory.</p><p>Amnesia. It was enough to make you feel like a character in a Telenovela. But the reality was frustrating and unsettling. Sam and Dean seemed to know you better than you knew yourself and you tried not to let that make you feel incomplete and defective but sometimes it was hard. For the most part, your long term memory was fine. From the start you’d known who you were; Y/N, a hunter. And you’d known who they were too. Sam and Dean Winchester. They were the closest thing to you; family in all ways but actual blood. You had known that you lived with them and hunted with them and that you had done so for years, ever since Bobby had introduced you to them. It was mainly more recent stuff that just….wasn’t there. And parts of you were…different. There were things you liked that apparently you used to hate. And Vice Versa.</p><p>“What’s that about?” You’d asked the doctor.</p><p>“Memory Loss is not an exact science.” He’d said.</p><p>“But isn’t medicine, supposed to be?” You’d asked and you’d noticed Dean trying to hide the smirk on his face at your comment. It didn’t last long anyway, replaced almost instantly by the concern that had become his permanent expression.</p><p>“Medicine may be but the human body is not, I’m afraid.” The doctor had said, shutting down any imminent snark with an unimpressed look. And that had been back in October.</p><p>You’d been hunting with the boys, a shifter in Cedar Rapids, and there had been a fight, which wasn’t unusual, but you’d taken a hit that had cost you your memory.</p><p>“That’s not fair!” You’d shouted in frustration in the hospital bed. “Sam’s taken hundreds of ‘blunt force trauma’s to the head and he still has his memory!”</p><p>Sam had just looked at you with his eyes big and devoid of answers. You knew that he’d trade places with you in a heartbeat and you’d felt awful. You’d known you were being a bitch. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry. I’m just upset.”</p><p>“It’s OK.” He’d said, smiling at you warmly, a smile so obviously heartfelt that you’d known he meant it.</p><p>Between the three of you, you’d tried to figure out what you remembered and what you didn’t but the doctor had been right, it was far from ‘exact.’ Most of the old stuff was there, some of the newer stuff too…but there were chunks of time just…gone. Things that Sam or Dean would ask you about but they rang no bells, you had no connection to them at all.</p><p>“Do you remember my birthday?” Dean had asked.</p><p>“Sure. January 24th.” You’d answered with confidence.</p><p>“Do you remember what we did for it?” He’d reached out to hold your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles from his seat by your bedside, which had thrown you. He didn’t normally hold your hand.</p><p>“Yes….” You’d said, trying to cast your mind back through murky waters of your recollection and the jarring icebergs of lost time, “Oh! I made you rice krispie treats and then we went to that Mexican place and had quesadilla’s and taco’s and then that bar….’Roadhogs’! And we played pool and I beat you and then we played again and you beat me and that waitress kept hitting on Sam and he got all flustered!! Yes!” You were shouting like it was the winning answer on a game show.</p><p>You looked from Dean to Sam, watching the worried look that passed between them.</p><p>“Y/N…sweetheart…that was my birthday last year.” Dean had said, looking like he’d just been punched in the gut.</p><p>“What?” You’d asked, feeling like you’d just been punched in the gut.</p><p>“What about mine?” Sam had asked, softly. Encouragingly.</p><p>“Well….um…May 2nd I know that, Sammy. Wait, you hate it when anyone but Dean calls you that, right?”</p><p>Sam had smiled at you sweetly. “Actually I don’t mind when you do it. But you don’t usually. Unless you’re doing your impression of Dean.”</p><p>“Oh. Right. OK…well…… I think…we went to that Farmer’s Market and Dean moaned the whole time and then we had a picnic?” This time you asked tentatively, hopefully, your voice rising at the end of your words making it a question; making it a shot in the dark.</p><p>Sam gave you a tight smile. Clearly that too was incorrect. The frustration was infuriating. You’d thrown your head back into the pillow, full of rage.</p><p>“What are you doing?” You’d snapped at Dean. “Why are you…stroking my hand?”</p><p>“Um….Y/N….I……” He’d looked caught out and wrong footed. Dean was never normally stuck for words but he had been then.</p><p>“Dean, can I talk to you, outside for a moment?” Sam had asked but he’d used the forced overly neutral voice he used when he was trying to keep people calm but actually something really bad was happening. “We’ll be right back.” He’d said, again with the tight smile. A forced, fake, reassuring smile. And they’d left. Sam ushering Dean out of the room. Leaving you to lie there, feeling the full force of your confusion and frustration.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things had been so topsy turvy for you that you hadn’t fully pieced together how weird Dean was being. He loved you; you were family. It made sense if he was a little off, you had reasoned. So you’d disregarded the way he’d reach for your hand or to touch you in some small gesture of affection and then pull away like he’d touched a hot stove. Or how he’d start to call you ‘honey’ or ‘baby’ instead of just the usual friendly ‘sweetheart’ or ‘kiddo’ you were used too. You also didn’t question that he didn’t leave your bedside at all apart from bathroom breaks. Sam was there so much too and Dean was nothing if not protective of you, and of Sam, of everyone he loved. It wasn’t that weird.</p><p>It did, however, strike you as weird that there were things you’d ask that would cause Sam and Dean to look at each other and clearly be selective with the past. For men so skilled at lying and subterfuge they were kind of easy to see through, but then again, you knew them so well. Or at least, you thought you did.</p><p>“Why do you guys keep doing that?” You’d asked, your voice both louder and harsher than you’d wanted it to be, made stern sounding by your annoyance at being confined to a hospital bed and the feeling that there was so much being kept from you; by the dark recesses of your own mind, now seemingly welded shut, and also traitorously, or so it felt, by the two closest people to you. “You’re keeping stuff from me and it’s not fair. I don’t know….there’s so much I don’t know…and now you’re hiding things from me.”</p><p>“Y/N…Bab-“ Dean had started, leaning over your bed, looking slightly broken. You had been taken aback by how totally wracked by his concern for you he had looked.</p><p>“Dean.” Sam interjected, but kindly, not harshly.</p><p>Dean had looked at his brother and whatever was said between them was wordless and undecipherable to your impatient gaze.</p><p>“Guys! You gotta help me out or I’m gonna lose my mind!”</p><p>“Do you trust me?” Dean had asked. His green eyes sad and soft as he looked at you, open and unguarded. ‘What was even going on with him?’ you had thought. “Trust us?” He’d added.</p><p>You’d huffed. Because it was all too much. You couldn’t even trust your own brain, your own thoughts or memories. Who you thought you were or what you liked or remembered - it all seemed circumspect. And you hated this angry frustrated feeling in you. Hated that it was making you lash out at the boys, who you loved. And you really did love them. That much, at least you knew.</p><p>“Yes.” You said, quietly but honestly. “With my life. The both of you.”</p><p>“The doctor has said that there are some things that we shouldn’t push. They’ll come back to you when they come back to you. If….” He had paused and swallowed, looking like he was struggling with his emotions. It was all very….not ‘Dean’. “We just think….some stuff….we should tread lightly with. We’re not hiding anything. Please just trust us. I’m…we’re asking you to trust us.”</p><p>“But I want to know. Everything. It’s my life you are keeping from me.”</p><p>“We won’t. We’ll tell you everything. Please ba…Please Y/N, I’m begging you. I can’t see you hurt or scared or freaked out any more than you already are. We’ll tell you. Just slowly, OK? Please?”</p><p>“Y/N…he’s right. I can’t imagine how frustrating this must be for you and I know you must want to know everything.  But it could set you back. We want you well. We’ll tell you everything. Try and fill in all the gaps but it’s only been a few days. Too much too soon could be really damaging.” Sam had said, his earnest eyes letting you know that they were both only doing what they believed to be best for you.</p><p>“Doesn’t seem like I have much choice.” You’d said, trying and failing not to sound like a petulant child.</p><p>Then you’d got back home. You’d been unpacking your things from the hospital in your room when you opened a drawer in the dresser.</p><p>“Dean?! Sam?!” You’d shouted. “Why are there men’s boxers in my dresser?”</p><p>Both of them had rushed to your door, Sam glaring at his brother whilst Dean just stared at you, blankly.</p><p>“Fuck!” He’d hollered out, loud and full of annoyance. “I’m so sorry. I meant to clear them out. I must’ve just forgotten that one drawer.” He’d looked at Sam who was openly seething. “It was an accident.”</p><p>“Was it?” Sam had said, his expression showing his obvious disbelief.</p><p>“What you think I wanted her to find out like this?” Dean had said, his features creasing with irritable anger at Sam before relaxing as he turned to you.</p><p>“Why is your underwear in my room? Were you staying in here whilst I was in the hospital? Wait….No….You were there every night…What the fuck is going on? And if you look at each other like that one more time, I swear to God, I’m going to lose my shit and I’m gonna start throwing things!”</p><p>“OK. OK….my stuff was in here. I meant to clear it all out before you got home and I did,” He’d said, turning to look pointedly at Sam, “…I just forgot that one drawer.”</p><p>“But why…?”</p><p>“Because before the…accident….this was my room too.”</p><p>“What? No! Your room is 11. It has always been 11.”</p><p>“It was. Until….” He had taken a step closer to you, “…until you and I got together and I moved in here. With you.”</p><p>You’d stared slack jawed at him. “Together? Like ‘Together’ together? Like….what?” And you had really tried to remember. Pushing hard against the edges of what you knew, pushing so hard it felt more like slamming yourself into them.</p><p>“Y/N? Honey, are you OK?” He’d said, stepping forward to put a concerned arm around you. You didn’t mean to but you recoiled instinctively. Not from him as such but just….it was all too much. Surely that would be the kind of thing you’d remember? And since when? And just……what? Your flinch away from him had caused him to look like he’d just been slapped in the face. Which in turn hurt you. You would never ever want to hurt Dean. Ever. Everything was just moving too damn fast.</p><p>“I….I’m sorry…but…I don’t….I…..” You could hear yourself stuttering but you were finding it impossible to find a thought concrete enough to vocalise. “I….I can’t…”</p><p>“Maybe I should go.” Sam said, turning to leave.</p><p>“No!” You shouted at him, causing both brothers to look taken aback at both the volume and insistence of your voice. “So…Dean and I….” You flailed somewhat before eventually continuing, “…but you. You’re just Sam, same as always, my friend?” You’d asked, sounding manic and not a little unhinged.</p><p>“Yeah.” Sam had said, confusion all over his face.</p><p>You had turned to Dean. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult. I just a need a minute and….I can’t…I’m sorry. I just….”</p><p>The look of pain on his face when he realised you needed him to leave would be seared on your memory forever, well, what was left of it. It haunted you still, you had never, ever wanted to see him so hurt, let alone be the cause for it. His soft green eyes, reeling as they stared at you, the wounded face and open mouth searching for the right words.</p><p>“I’m sorry-“ You’d begun but he’d stopped you.</p><p>“No.” He had said, rallying and putting on a brave face and a stoic forced smile. “It’s fine. It’s a lot of new information. It’s OK. Don’t worry.”</p><p>And with that he had left you with Sam, the heartbroken slump of his shoulders as he left pulling at your heart even amid the roiling confusion.</p><p>You had fallen in a slumped heap on your bed. Sam carefully sat next to you.</p><p>“You alright?”</p><p>“When?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Since when?”</p><p>“Um….you said you remembered that night, right? Dean’s birthday at ‘Roadhog’s?…a few months after that, I think.”</p><p>“I just….really?” You had said, shock and disbelief lining your words.</p><p>“Yeah.” He’d said, smiling sadly. “And you were really happy. The both of you. I’ve never seen either of you so happy. You were just really in love.”</p><p>“We were? But….how could I not remember that?”</p><p>“The doctor said that maybe your memory just found a point in time and…reset itself?”</p><p>“Oh…” You had said, your inability to accept that as a suitable answer obvious in your tone.</p><p>“Sam, I don’t remember. How can I not remember?!” You’d said as you had started to cry, mostly out of shock and exasperation and he had put a comforting arm around your shoulder.</p><p>“Because you had a head trauma. And it isn’t your fault.” He had let you cry for a moment before adding, “But Y/N….are you really that surprised? I mean you and Dean have always had….there’s always been something between the two of you.”</p><p>He’d been right, of course. You’d had a crush on Dean since forever. How could you not? It was Dean. He was so effortlessly sexy and lovable. But ‘love’? Him feeling the same way? Not just flirting? A relationship? It was a lot to get your head round. As was the fact that not only had it happened but….you’d missed it. All of it. You had sat in silence for a while, just trying to take it in.</p><p>“Sam, I don’t remember any of it. How it happened. A first kiss. Anyone saying I love you, in that way…..Oh God….poor Dean…”</p><p>He’d squeezed your shoulder affectionately. “It’s been hard for him.” He said, quietly. Factually. “But that’s not your fault. He knows that.”</p><p>“I just sent him away!” You’d said, guilt pressing heavy upon you. You had stood up quickly. “I have to go talk to him.”</p><p>And Sam had stood up, nodding and following you out of your room and letting you hurry towards Dean’s room. You had found him, taking his possessions from boxes and putting them away. Unpacking after his move. As much as this whole thing had been hard for you, it was clearly hard for him too, you could tell by the way his shoulders stooped and how his eyes looked red, as if he had been crying. You hadn’t asked for any of this but then again, neither had he.</p><p>“Dean, I’m so sorry.” You had said, as you entered room 11 of the bunker. “I just….I needed a minute.”</p><p>“Hey….don’t apologise. You’ve done nothing wrong.” He had said, looking at you sincerely, if not also with stoic resignation.</p><p>“I hate that I don’t remember.”</p><p>“Me too.” He’d said, truth echoing within his hollow tone. “But it’s not your fault.”</p><p>“That’s what Sam said. But still……I don’t know why I don’t.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“Yeah. It does.”</p><p>The room had been silent as you sat down on the bed, watching as he took piles of flannel and placed them on hangers to go on the rail. He had stopped, throwing the assorted shirts back in the box and then sitting in the bed, next to you. He reached to touch your face, to cup your cheek in a way that he obviously had done a million times but that felt alien to you, so far from the bounds of friendship that you were used to, and your body had instinctively moved out of his grasp. Again, you had seen that wounded look on his face.</p><p>“I’m-“</p><p>“Don’t.” He’d said. “Please don’t apologise. It’s just been hard. I’m so used to….We’ve been together over a year and I’m just used to….and I keep doing it and I don’t mean to…”</p><p>“You know it’s just because I’m not used to it, right? Like…it’s not you. It feels weird to say but I have always had….you know feelings for you…” You had felt awkward and embarrassed. As far as you knew that felt like a big confession, even though you also knew that it wasn’t. Not really. Presumably he’d heard it all before.</p><p>He had smiled. “Yeah, I know.” It was the first time you’d seen him smile a real smile in days, a ‘Dean’ smile, one that reached up and crinkled the skin around his eyes. “You told me. And I always had feelings for you too.”</p><p>“I didn’t know that.” You said, softly. “I thought it was just….flirting.”</p><p>“I know. You told me that too.”</p><p>You had let out a sound of frustration. “So not only have I missed all the good stuff. Those conversations. A first kiss. A first….oh my God….we’ve had sex. We’ve had sex and I don’t remember?!”</p><p>He had looked at you slightly at a loss, his face saying ‘well, yeah, of course’ and ‘and it was good.’</p><p>“I have wanted to….be like that with you since the first moment I saw you…and not only do I just not remember….but I might never remember….what it was like….that and everything else. Our first date. The first time you said ‘I love you’….not as your ‘family’ but as….more….I mean I presume that happened right?”</p><p>His brow creased as he looked at you solemnly. “Of course….of course I said it. And I felt it way before I said it….and nothing’s changed…I lo-“</p><p>“Stop. Please stop.”</p><p>He looked wounded and sad again and every time you made his face twist in pain like that you hated yourself even more.</p><p>“Look….” He’d said, in his deep, ‘I’m taking charge of this situation voice’, “…it’ll come back to you…and if it doesn’t….we can take it slow and there will be another first kiss and another first ‘I love you’ and….all the rest….”</p><p>“Dean….” You had watched as his features settled into a grim sadness as the realisation that that might not be what happened, that his separation from you, this ‘loss’ might not be temporary.</p><p>“Dean,” You started again, softer and full of the love you felt for your best friend “…I’m not saying there won’t be…I just….do you remember that day when we went for a drive in Baby and it was just us and Sam was helping Jody with that thing in Sioux Falls and we drove and sat in the sun all day and talked and then we came back here and got pizza and watched the ‘Scream’ movies?”</p><p>He had nodded. “You told me. You told me that that day you had wanted to kiss me all day and when we were sat watching on your bed you found it difficult because you just wanted to kiss me and you were freaked out because it was all you wanted to do but you were scared….scared of ruining our friendship, scared that I didn’t want that too. But sweetheart, I did…I felt the same…all day….and all the days before….it was all I wanted too….and we got there….eventually, we got there…”</p><p>“Dean…..that day, it feels like yesterday to me. Those feelings. Feeling them and hiding them and telling myself that I was crazy and I shouldn’t feel that way about you….and now you are telling me that we just breezed past them and we share a room and we are in love….and not only did I miss it all…all the stuff I dreamed about and wanted for so long….but that I might not ever get them back…and that you know…you know all this stuff about me and what I think and feel…stuff that I don’t even know if I’ve sorted through in my head yet….I still feel like you are my friend who I adore, my ‘family’ who, yeah, I have all these feelings for…had all these feelings for…” He had winced noticeably at the ‘had’, “…but you are clearly looking at me like I’m your…what, girlfriend…and it’s just…crazy to me…and you know and I’m still playing catch up….and it’s gone from 0 to 60 in like no time at all and…it’s just….it’s a lot to process right now.”</p><p>He had looked at you, with that sad, forced smile etched, seemingly indelibly, on his sad but undeniably handsome face and nodded slowly as if he understood, though, of course, how could he when you weren’t even sure you did?</p><p>“Look…it’s been a few days….just….maybe we should give it some time….whatever happens, happens. There is no expectation, OK? No…anything.”</p><p>“You and Sam are everything to me, you know that. You have been for years. You are the only constants in my life and you’re telling me that now, everything is different and I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind and just you….Dean….without labels, without me calling it ‘romantic’ or ‘family’ or whatever…I care so much and you mean so much….it’s really throwing me that whatever it is between us…it’s completely different, it’s not what I thought it was….”</p><p>“Hey…” He said, moving closer and taking your hands in his. “…relationship or not. I love you. What that means and looks like…that might have changed in some ways but the heart of it…the truth of it…it never has…it never will…you can count on it. You can make it the foundation stone and just build on it….you can hold on to that…because it ain’t going nowhere….no matter what. I can promise you that. Just…forget…this is why we didn’t want to say anything and I really didn’t mean to leave my stuff in that drawer…my head’s just been all over the past few days…let’s just….no labels….you and me…and Sammy…let’s just be. And let you get better…whatever that ends up meaning….”</p><p>And so it had been. He’d backed off on anything romantic though there were slips every now and then, when you saw the Herculean effort it clearly took for him to change the easy way he’d been affectionate and demonstrative with you, wane. When he’d call you ‘baby’ or reach to pull you to him, stopping himself just at the last moment. Things with Sam though, remained comfortingly the same, although sometimes he’d reference a movie or TV show you’d clearly seen but didn’t remember or get you something that he obviously thought you liked, because past you had, and new you felt no discernible connection to it. But for the most part things with him were simple and familiar.</p><p>Over the past few months you had fallen into a comforting companionable rhythm with the both of them. Although it was hard. You wanted more than anything to just remember but the harder you pushed, the further that life seemed to creep from you. And it wasn’t as if you didn’t feel things for Dean. It was Dean, being sexy was just….it was like breathing to him, he just did it. But every time you forgot and had ‘a moment’….like the time you had been laughing in the Dean Cave and it felt like you might kiss, you’d felt suddenly weirdly winded by it…by how it felt, the rush of emotions as if it was going to be your first kiss with him, the anticipation and excitement coursing through you and then suddenly taken out by the weight of the knowledge that it wasn’t….the crushing weight of all that you had lost…all that had been taken from you. And you wanted to be close to him like that but it felt too hard. The gulf between what felt ‘normal’ to you, and where you knew you had ended up. A place that felt like an alien planet to your current sphere of understanding. Plus it was unfair to him. Like giving a drowning man a chance to hold a life preserver but then snatching it away as he thrashed in waves. He hid the toll it was taking on him well but it was obvious. His pain was obvious. And only eclipsed by his concern for you.</p><p>You felt lost to yourself with no map to navigate your way home. Even though he tried not to put any of it on you, you could feel, like a real and visceral force, feel his hope and expectation. How much he missed the old you and what you had shared. You felt like you were letting him down and hurting him and that burden felt unbearable. You felt like at every turn he was holding on, waiting for the miracle moment when you’d wake up and it would all come flooding back, and you couldn’t blame him, deep down some part of you was hoping and waiting for that too, but there was no promise that moment would come. Every time you remembered a new thing, or some story sparked a flicker of recognition in you, you could feel the wave of hope rising in him and then his devastation as not all of it came flooding back. The expectation and then resulting desperate disappointment, it felt truly crushing, for the both of you. It was all too hard. So you had just….allowed him to let you be…and simply taken the path of least resistance through the days. Letting things be how you remembered them to be, as much as you could.  </p><p>They both told you stories and tried to fill in blanks where they could but at your pace, carefully, mindful not to push or overwhelm you. And some stuff had come back but they were bits and pieces, non linear jigsaw pieces that fell into place in a scattered and unfathomable way. It was completely out of control or understanding what came back and when. The distress you felt meant that although you asked things and pushed for stories, you consciously steered clear of asking Dean about the two of you, not wanting to twist the knife in his heart or rub salt in his wounds. Not sure if you could handle either him telling you something sweet that would make you ache when you realised you had been robbed of actually having the experience or of the look he might get on his face if you couldn’t remember. So you avoided the topic and he didn’t push. But sometimes little fragments of broken memories would ride to the surface, unbidden.</p><p>Like when Dean had taken you to the pizza place in town one night. Sam was with Donna. It had still been at the point when Dean had refused to go on hunting trips, wanting to stay and ‘take care’ of you, though you had meant it when you said you were fine and that he should go. The both of them had pushed hard for you not to hunt either and although you were resolute that the call was yours to make, you had kind of been OK with it.</p><p>You had been at the restaurant, the smell of dough, simmering tomato sauces and oregano rich in the air and the warmth from the pizza oven like reaching out across the open kitchen and lovingly enfolding the diners. Old Dean Martin songs were playing low in the background; ‘Volare’ and ‘That’s Amore’ and you had suddenly had this wave; it was the weirdest feeling.</p><p>“Whoa….y’alright?” Dean had asked, leaning forward and grabbing your hand across the table. He pushed his chair back as if he was going to get up and come over to your side of the table but you smiled and shook your head at him, not wanting to cause a scene.</p><p>“I just….I know we’ve been here loads of times. With Sam and on our own…but….I just had this weird feeling, like déjà vu but…on crack or something…we’ve been here on a date before, right?”</p><p>“What?!” He’d looked shocked. And then it had been as if pure delight cracked open inside of him, spreading slowly across his face. His green eyes had sparkled, soft and full of happiness as his lips formed a wide, joyous smile. “Yes! Yes, we did. Baby, are you remembering something?”</p><p>“I think…I think so. We were here and you made a joke about us ordering spaghetti and meatballs and eating them ‘Lady and The Tramp’ style…and then…I called you a dork…and you said…that you were absolutely not a dork but that if you were a dork you would be my dork and that if I ever told Sam you had said that then I’d never get to choose the movie on movie night, again….is that…did that happen?”</p><p>He had looked so happy he might cry as he nodded, letting go of your hand as he leaned back in his chair. “Yeah….” He said, quietly. Contentedly. “Yes. That happened. Do you remember anything else?”</p><p>You tried hard to follow the memory but it seemed to evaporate the harder you pursued it. It was so frustrating, the image and the feeling unravelling in your mind. You had let out a sound of frustration and looked at him apologetically. “I’m so sorry. No.”</p><p>“Hey….it’s OK. That’s good. That’s a victory. Start there, it’s OK.”</p><p>You’d looked at him and smiled. In that brief little window you’d felt it. The comfort and ease, the familiarity, the closeness. Like the kind you already had for him but deeper, richer. No holding back.</p><p>“My dork, huh?” You’d teased.</p><p>“Well, yeah….” He had shrugged, still smiling as he took a sip from his beer. You had found it hard to imagine Dean saying something like that and had shook your head slightly.</p><p>“What?” He’d asked.</p><p>“No, nothing. It just…it’s very ‘couple’y.”</p><p>“Well….we were a couple.” He was still smiling but it was obvious how using the past tense hurt him.</p><p>“Was it our first date?” You had asked, aware that this was the first time you’d asked him anything about your relationship.</p><p>“No. Yes. Kinda.” He’d said, looking as if he was wrestling with something hard to explain. “No. Because we hung out all the time so not really. And yes, because it was the first time we’d gone for a meal since….we kissed and told each other about feelings and all that stuff. Since everything was out in the open.”</p><p>You nodded as the waitress brought your pizza over. He watched you as you thanked her and grabbed a slice. He had still been staring at you as you started eating, uncharacteristically not tucking in. You had been quiet and evidently, he had noticed.</p><p>“You alright over there?” He’d asked, concern softening the depth of his voice.</p><p>You had started to nod but you could tell he knew something was up.</p><p>“On the one hand,” You had started, “I want to know. Who kissed who? How did it start? What did you say? How long did you have feelings? It’s weird and sad that I don’t know….but….”</p><p>“On the other hand?”</p><p>“On the other hand…it also makes me feel weird and sad because it’s like you’d be telling me about a movie you saw or something. I know the characters and I know where it’s going but…it’s not me, y’know? It doesn’t feel like my life. Even though I know it was.”</p><p>“Hey,” He’d said, looking at you intently so you felt how much he meant his words. “I really believe it’ll come back. All of it. And any time you want to know anything, you can just ask me. But there is no hurry. And no pressure. We’re here. Now. It’s just pizza.”</p><p>And he’d smiled and been wonderful, as always. But you’d seen the joy slowly ebb out of him, replaced by the demeanour you’d gotten used to over the past few weeks;  his longstanding comfort around you tempered by the immense effort it took for him to keep himself in check and operate within limits that had clearly not been there before. Having seen how happy he was in that instant and then watching it fade had made your heart ache in your chest.</p><p>There had been other instances too. A song on the radio in Baby. One time when you were hanging out in the Dean Cave watching an old Three Stooges movie. Once when you were grabbing coffee together from the coffee shop in town. Little snapshots and half remembered fragments had flickered in your mind, so delicate that any close inspection made them fall apart in your desperate, reaching fingers.</p><p>You felt angry and frustrated, you felt tired and sad, you felt confused and impatient – but most of all you felt guilty and like you had let him down. Although both brothers had told you repeatedly that you shouldn’t. You couldn’t help how you felt.</p><p>You got up from the table in the kitchen.</p><p>“So….Deanmas, huh? What’s the first order of business?”</p><p>“Well,” He said, winking at you as he started to pull things out of the bag on the kitchen island. “First, why don’t you get us both a beer…” He grabbed the white apron and tied it around his waist. “….because baking Christmas Cookies seems like thirsty work.” He grinned as he raised his eyebrows at you, letting the first ‘Day’ of Deanmas sink in.</p><p>You got you both a beer from the fridge and opened them, watching as got out all manner of baking accoutrements.</p><p>“You have all this baking stuff?” You said, looking at the cookie cutters and cup cake cases and pretty pale blue metal weighing scales. “Oh…this stuff’s mine.” You nodded sadly at the realisation, just another part of you that had gotten lost. “I baked.”</p><p>“I used to help. Sometimes. And we used to cook together.”</p><p>“We did?” You said, smiling. You could see that. Him in his apron, you chopping next to him as he seasoned or sautéed.</p><p>“Yeah, “ He said, his memories causing a wide, soft, easy smile to form on his soft, plush, pink lips. “You’d make this joke about kissing the chef and…then one time…we…” He bit his lower lip, as he looked lost in a happy remembrance. “….right there on the floor by the fridge…Sammy nearly walked in on us….” He laughed slightly before turning his gaze back to you and checking himself.</p><p>“In here? On the floor? It looks….hard and cold….” You said, looking at the unforgiving tile.</p><p>“Yeah…we’ve kinda done that in most places in the bunker…”</p><p>“We’ve…done that… all over the bunker?”</p><p>He looked at you as if he wasn’t sure he should be telling you this but shrugged and nodded, ultimately giving in to the truth. Despite being conflicted about telling you, he looked proud and happy.</p><p>“The library?”</p><p>He grinned wide, looking adorable and incredibly sexy all at once. He let out a low, slow laugh. “Few times actually. Once up against the shelves…and then the table…”</p><p>“The table with your initials on them?” You asked shocked that you and Dean had had this whole other life that you didn’t recall. A sexy one, it would seem.</p><p>“Once. And the other table…” He laughed again, remembering. “Had to get a new lamp…it got…thrown…this one time….” He looked as if he was reliving a very fond memory.</p><p>“Wow. You’re athletic, huh?” You asked, your cheeks warming as you let yourself imagine.</p><p>“I’m athletic?” He said, pouting as he raised an eyebrow and nodded at you with a look of ‘OK, I’m gonna let that slide but that’s not the exact truth’ as he gave you a smile that showed he was humouring you. Clearly Dean had known how to make you let loose. You couldn’t deny thinking about it was starting to make your insides flutter.</p><p>“So…” You said, clearing your throat to try and dislodge the images in your mind, which felt inappropriate even though clearly, they weren’t. Not to him anyway. “This is to try and remind me? The baking? That I loved to bake or that we used to have fun times together in the kitchen….?”</p><p>“What? No!….This is because the chick in the movie…she was a sad, lonely baker type, right? And that’s what started all of this off…so…hence, Christmas Cookies!”</p><p>It weirdly made it better. You felt less pressure if he was just being cute and there was no agenda. And he was being cute, you noticed, as he weighed out flour with care, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he dipped to read the dial, adding the tiniest fluffs of flour until it was the exact amount needed. You joined him, cracking some eggs into the big bowl and between you both, you started the baking process. You went to get the butter and watched as he took the whisk to beat in eggs. He looked like he was having fun and now that you weren’t trying to ‘remember’ you felt able to join him, or at least to try. He’d gone through so much effort.</p><p>“Should have known you’d have the wrist action down, Winchester…” You joked.</p><p>“What?!” He said, laughing at you. His eyebrows showed his surprise at you making a ‘funny’. God, had you really been that miserable the past few months. Amongst everything else had you forgotten how to have fun?</p><p>“Well….I’ve been spending a lot of time ‘on my own’ recently, if you know what I mean.” He locked eyes with you, cheekily winking and then opening them up wide at you as he kept up the pace of his whisking, never dropping the eye contact. It made you laugh despite yourself.</p><p>“I think I got your meaning, delicately nuanced and subtle as it was.” You said. The continued, loud and steady sound of the whisk was making you giggle like a twelve year old girl. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, you got a strange image in your head. Of Dean. His face. While you were….</p><p>“Oh God!” You shouted, though you didn’t mean to.</p><p>“What? What just happened?” He said, forcefully slamming the bowl onto the island and rushing over to you. “Are you OK? Y/N? Sweetheart….are you OK?”</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.” You said, suddenly finding it hard to look at him, aware that you had a look of shock and amusement and, to be honest, attraction all over your face.</p><p>“Was it a memory?” He asked, turning you round in his strong arms to look at you, disregarding the way you were trying to keep your face hidden from him.</p><p>“Yes. But not anything….that needs discussing….” You said, trying hard to feign nonchalance and failing.</p><p>“Was it a bad mem-“ He started before his face, crumpled into the cheekiest, most playfully flirtatious of smiles. “Wait….it was a naughty memory…?”</p><p>“What? No!” You lied, shrugging his hands off you as you walked back to the kitchen island and started weighing out the sugar.</p><p>“Holy shit, it was! It was naughty. It was you and me and you remembered a sexy thing. I can tell from your face!! Was it the shower? In Baby? On Baby? Wait! Wait! It was the time in Sam’s bed? It was wasn’t it? Don’t tell him he still doesn’t know about that.” He laughed as he spoke, his eyebrow raised and the sexiest of grins on his face.</p><p>“Wow.” You said, nodding your head slowly. “We had a lot of sex, huh?”</p><p>He looked almost comically proud as he shot you a ‘Guilty as charged. What can you do?’ face. “I guess. I mean we were very good at it.”</p><p>“Yeah.” You said, laughing nervously. “I’m getting that.”</p><p>Somehow, maybe because you weren’t trying, distracted as you were, the memory was still there. Breaking the usual pattern of dissolving in your mind’s eye under your focussed, intense attention. More than it still being there, it was blooming into a fully fledged scene.</p><p>“Are you remembering….more?” He asked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read your face.</p><p>“Erm….yeah. And it isn’t any of those times you mentioned. We were just…in my room….our room, I guess.”</p><p>In your mind you could see the way you both rolled over each other. Hear the way his voice sounded, husky and breathless as he moaned out your name. He was right. You had been good at that. Together. And he….wow….you could remember now….vaguely… he was really good.</p><p>You tried to busy yourself, quickly adding all the ingredients to the big bowl and grabbing a big wooden spoon to fold them all together.</p><p>“Y/N….?”</p><p>“Mmmm hmmm?” You replied, trying to keep your face impassive, though it was hard, through the clip show of sexual acts playing out like a trailer for an R rated movie. You could see him…in your head. He was…big….and thick…there. The image was vivid. So vivid. You started stirring aggressively.</p><p>“Y/N?” He repeated, louder.</p><p>The image flipped and you could see him rolling over you again but this time you weren’t doing that…you were kissing…but then he moved and he went…lower….and lower. Oh God, his mouth. How had you forgotten what he could do with that mouth? His tongue and those lips…well, that wasn’t surprising…you’d always had a thing for his lips they were so lush and pillowy you’d always wanted to bite the lower one, just so. Oh right, you’d used to do just that. Many times. It made him make that noise. That deep low rumble of a groan. Oh God, that noise….</p><p>“Yeah?” You said, aware that you weren’t saying much. You looked at him. ‘Be normal’ you instructed yourself internally. But you couldn’t help staring at his lips. So pink. So pouty and plump. The memory of when they kissed you and then gently sucked when he was down between your legs…it nearly took you out.</p><p>“Oh!” He said, laughing but clearly slightly taken aback. “Ohhh!” He had clearly read your face and you had evidently not been at all discreet about where you were looking. “Really?!” He looked smug but strangely not in an annoying way. And honestly, if this new batch of memories were to be believed…he kind of had a right to be. You watched as he slowly bit down on his lower lip, just a little. You felt warm and a little giddy.</p><p>He fixed his eyes on yours, the intensity of his gaze only making them more verdant. He smirked a little, in a way that made you feel it, deep, deep down inside of you. He looked down at your hands as they furiously stirred the cake mixture, before slowly, trailing his gaze up your body all the way back up to your eyes. Jesus, so this is what it was like having his attention on you like this. You hadn’t remembered this. No wonder you had sex so much, you thought, if he looked at you like that, you were surprised you’d ever done anything else. The left side of his smile kinked up, he looked sexy and confident and it was unnervingly hot. He leaned forward, towards you and said, low and deep and ever so seductively. “Want me to lick the bowl?”</p><p>It was such a cheesy line. It shouldn’t have elicited anything but a dismissive laugh. But….</p><p>You felt flushed and warm and your breathing was suddenly noticeably faster. “Do you….want…to lick the bowl?” You asked, trying not to sound as wrong footed as you felt.</p><p>“I want to lick the bowl.” He said, taking a step closer to you, his eyes intense and affecting you way more than you wanted them to. He looked confident and so goddamn sexy. “I love licking the bowl.” He said, reaching his hand up to cup the side of your face; slowly, softly but somehow it was hot. The tenderness and care in his touch simply demonstrating that he knew how to touch you. The playful smirk on his face showing that his mind was not simply showing sweet affection, there was something else, something far more…physical on his mind. “I have missed…licking…the bowl.”</p><p>He licked his lips, his eyes not moving from yours. It was a lot to take. He was so sexy it was…over powering. You put the bowl down on the kitchen island however, your attention was so focussed on Dean that you weren’t paying attention and the bowl knocked into the bags of both flour and sugar on the island, still open and in hindsight, precariously near to the edge, tipping them both over, cascading onto the floor.</p><p>“Oh Shit!” You exclaimed as a the contents spilled from the sugar and the bag of flour seemingly exploded on impact, spilling forth all over the kitchen floor and letting up a cartoon like cloud of white fluff. You both bent down to examine the damage. There was flour and sugar everywhere.</p><p>“Wanna make flour angels? The floor’s not as cold or as hard as you think.” He said, lifting his head to smile wickedly at you with one eyebrow raised.</p><p>“We cannot be talking about this when we haven’t even kissed yet. I mean….I know we have but…I haven’t….this me….it’s….”</p><p>“Too much?”</p><p>It was confusing because he was here, so gorgeous and so close and you wanted to kiss him so very badly but also…it did seem to moving really fast, and although that in itself wasn’t enough to stop you, the idea that you might freak out later and that that would hurt him - the idea that you might do that was actually too much to bear. And if things got any more heated it would cause a whole barrage of questions to tumble in its wake. Questions like ‘What does this mean?’ and ‘Are we in a relationship again?’ Questions that felt too heavy to deal with right now. Even though….you couldn’t deny that all you wanted to do was bite ever so gently on his bottom lip…and then maybe slightly less gently….</p><p>Suddenly, Dean reached forward, scooping a huge handful of flour and threw it at you.</p><p>“What the fuck, Dean?” You said, not moving as your top and half your face was covered in a whole new cloud of fluffy white powder.</p><p>He laughed at his handiwork. “Oh God…I’m sorry…but there was all this….weird tension and I just figured I was either gonna have to kiss you or do that.”</p><p>“Yeah?” You said, swiping at a pile of the flour and sugar, sending a sailing wave of it in his direction, it covering his black t shirt and half of his plaid shirt. “And you chose that?”</p><p>“Look….” He said, suddenly serious. “I’m not gonna do anything that freaks you out. It’s good that we can talk about this stuff now and I’m not gonna lie, there is nothing I want to do more than grab you and make this mess even messier…but if I kiss you again….when I kiss you next….it’s not gonna be when your confused and unsure and worrying about what’s gonna happen after, OK? So….” And with that he threw another handful of flour at you.</p><p>“Dean….quit it!” You said, but you said it while you were retaliating, your competitive nature and refusal to let him get one over on you rearing its head.</p><p>“You quit it….” He said, laughing. It was like a snowball fight but with flour which was getting everywhere as you both threw handfuls of flour and sugar at each other, laughing and picking up speed.</p><p>“You are making so much mess!” You said, but you had somehow both ended up on the floor, rolling around, trying to ‘get’ each other; trying to ‘win’. His arms were around you as he tried to get a direct hit of his next handful but you were quicker than he’d anticipated and brought a handful of your own up, and brought it down into his hair where it dusted his hair turning it a silver grey. The sight of him, eyes shut as flour floated around his head, hair frosted, and look of resolute forbearance on his face.</p><p>“I’m making a mess?” He said, opening his eyes and giving you a look that let you know you were in trouble now as he relaxed the hold he had had you in.</p><p>“Dean….Dean…” You said, using your best ‘trying to calm the situation’ voice. “You started it. I was just….playing along….but….really, it’s enough….Sam’s gonna be really mad….”</p><p>“Oh really? It’s enough?” He asked, sarcastically, starting a barrage of small but continued flour attacks.</p><p>“Dean! For fucks sake!” You said as it devolved into a free for all with the flour flying everywhere. It was ridiculous but in the moment it also felt good. You were both laughing, it felt good to laugh like this, laughing so that you couldn’t stop and your tummy hurt. Somehow the flour fight turned into a play fight and somehow he had managed to pin you to the floor, both of you covered in patches of white.</p><p>“Dean! Get off me…..!” You said, through your uncontrollable giggles. It was the way he was smiling and playing but also was clearly taking it seriously and wanting to win. You fought against his arms but he was very strong and you weren’t really threatened. Perhaps you weren’t even that invested in winning as you felt the weight of him over you, his body still shaking from laughter and his smile wide, the fact that you were laughing and happy seemed to make him happy; like an echo chamber of good feelings.</p><p>It was still good, even as the laughter died down and you half hearted fought back against the way he held you down. But as the frenzy of the flour fight dissipated it left a vacuum of energy; a vacuum that was quickly filled with all that unresolved tension all over again.</p><p>He should kiss me, you thought. God, I want him to kiss me. But what about later? Things are already so hard, do I really want to risk a big mess in my home, with the person I love most in this world, right now and….oh God, he looks so good….He’s covered in flour and he looks….so…fucking…good….</p><p>He shut off your internal monologue by leaning in and kissing you softly on the forehead before releasing you and climbing off you to lean against the fridge, still grinning.</p><p>OK, good. You thought. That was definitely for the best. Though, you couldn’t deny part of you was disappointed too.</p><p>“You’re wrong.” You said, trying to break the tension. “This floor is very hard and cold.”</p><p>“Yeah? Well….maybe we were distracted last time we were down here…” He said, winking at you and then smiling. But the smile turned quickly from that sexy teasing flirty thing he did to just…Dean being your Dean, the one you knew, better than anything. It was sweet and open and happy. You’d missed that smile.</p><p>“So….is this the sort of crazy madcap fun we used to have before?” You asked, motioning around you at the carnage your play fight had caused, using your sarcasm to deflect from how insecure you felt. This had been fun, laughing and playing with him but you worried. Was this just a rerun for him, a paler, lesser version of something he did before; something that was better before?</p><p>“What?” He laughed. “No. We have never wrestled in flour in the kitchen before.”</p><p>“So…this….it’s new?” You asked.</p><p>He looked at you intently, his eyes soft and genuine and the sweet smile on his face unwavering. “Yes.” He said, simply. “It’s new. Just me as I am, right now, and you exactly like you are. You know….we can have new things, you and me, and they can be good. I’m not chasing the past when we’re together, you know that right? I’m just always happy to be where you are. However you are.”</p><p>He got up and helped you up as you felt the force of his words hit you, melting your heart. You hadn’t realised just how much you’d needed to hear him say that and now you had, you felt a part deep inside of you that had been holding its breath for months finally allow itself to exhale.</p><p>“We should really get this dough rolled out and these cookies in the oven…and we have to clean this mess up before Sam sees it or he will have such a bitch fit.” He said.</p><p>And so you worked, firstly to finish the dough and roll it out, there were Christmas shaped cookie cutters so you made some round traditional cookies but also some in the shape of snowmen and wrapped presents and sprigs of holly, and then once they were in the oven, you both cleaned the kitchen. It was hard as the flour had gotten everywhere! But strangely, it was kind of fun. It was always surprising to you how even the most mundane of activities was strangely fun with him. He put the radio on and he sang and somehow you both ended up, not exactly dancing but definitely moving to the rhythm as you wiped down sides and cleaned surfaces.</p><p>Springsteen’s ‘Santa Claus in Comin’ to Town’ was on and it was hard not to laugh as Dean sang whilst dipping into his impression of ‘The Boss’.</p><p>“He sees you when you’re sleeping, He knows when you’re awake…” He said, as he twirled around you in the kitchen with the broom, at times using it to sweep and at others as a mic and sometimes as a prop guitar. He put his hands on your hips from behind to guide you dancing you out of the way off his sweeping path, and it was fun. For the first time, in a long time, you weren’t trying to remember or figure anything out or second guess….you were just having a good time, with him, in the moment.</p><p>It took a while, but the kitchen got cleaned and the cookies were out of the oven and had cooled. You had both made icing in different colours and put them in piping bags ready to decorate.</p><p>“Dean! That is not where the carrot goes on a snowman!” You laughed, fake chiding him but also knowing that you kind of loved his immature side.</p><p>You had just finished icing your snowman when you looked at the cookie he was working on. It was just a normal round cookie but he’d written your name in big letters across the top of it. And then he’d written ‘&amp; Dean’.</p><p>You didn’t mean for your mind to suddenly go into overdrive but it happened anyway. Had you led him on? He thought you were a couple again and it’s not that you didn’t want to be, necessarily, but it was one afternoon of fun and you’d recently had a head injury and oh God, the pressure. You could feel the pressure.</p><p>“What do you think?” He asked, bumping his hip into yours from the side and showing off his handiwork.</p><p>The cookie was finished now and under your name he’d written ‘&amp; Dean’ and then under that ‘&amp; Sam’.</p><p>“Me and my favourite people.” He said. And just like that, everything was better. There was no pressure. There was just the three of you and how much you all meant to each other.</p><p>You put your arms around him and kissed him softly on the cheek. God, he was so….perfect.</p><p>“Wow. You really liked my icing skills, huh?” He asked, laughing but also looking both shyly taken aback and also proudly happy to have earned such a surge of unbounded affection from you.</p><p>“Thank you.” You said, really meaning it. “Thank you so much for today. Day One of Deanmas was….I loved it.”</p><p>“Well, good. But….you oughta pace yourself….there are eleven more of them to come and I’m only just getting warmed up.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, what does Day 2 of Deanmas have in store?” You asked, taking a sip of juice in the kitchen at lunch time the next day.</p><p>“Well, seeing as we’re still easing you into the Deanmas spirit, I thought we’d go easy with some Christmas movies today.” Dean said, as he made himself a sandwich.</p><p>“OK…well, you’re Father Deanmas….whatever you say. I’m hoping we’ll get less messy this time.”</p><p>You watched Sam, sat across from you at the table, his brow furrowed in confusion as he made his way through his salad, but you didn’t explain.</p><p>“You had to be there.” You said, before adding, “You gonna join us, Big Guy?”</p><p>Sam looked like he was mulling it over. “Which Christmas movies?” He asked.</p><p>“Well, how about we all pick one?” Dean said, making his way over to the table to join you both.</p><p>“I’m ok. I’ll be happy with whatever you guys choose.” You said, instantly wishing you’d been more enthusiastic when your saw the smile on Dean’s face waver.</p><p>“Not that I’m not into it, I just know I’ll like whatever you pick.” You added, smiling at him.</p><p>“OK, then. Double Bill it is.” He said, recovering quickly.</p><p>So after lunch you’d settled in the Dean Cave for the Christmas movie marathon. You made yourself comfy on the big bean bag nestled between the boys’ two Lay Z Boy recliners trying to ignore how awkward it was not only to get settled there but also because it was noticeable how you didn’t just curl into Dean on his seat anymore like, apparently, you’d used to. You hadn’t since the accident but still, every time the three of you gathered in here it was the loudest of quiet unspoken changes.</p><p>“I don’t know why you’re sitting there.” Sam said, looking at you like you were nuts. “You and Dean used to sit cuddled up on the recliner way before you were a couple…”</p><p>He was right but you shot him a killer stare anyway.</p><p>“So….we have….” Dean said, entering the room carrying a laden down tray. “Popcorn. Both salty and sweet. We got candy and sweets. And, of course we have liquorice.”</p><p>You and Sam both erupted into raucous disgust.</p><p>“Dude…it’s so gross.” Sam said, shaking his head emphatically. He followed this by fake retching as he looked at Dean, disgusted.</p><p>“I just….don’t get why….it’s not a traditional movie snack, even?” You added.</p><p>They both looked at you surprised.</p><p>“What? Don’t tell me I was on board with this…before?”</p><p>“Well….no…” Dean said, his face giving away the slightest hint of betrayal. “…but you used to pretend.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam said, laughing. “You’d take bits of liquorice and pretend that you were into it and then pass them to Dean when you thought I wasn’t looking.”</p><p>“Oh.” You said, feeling bad that once again, without meaning to, you’d let him down. You looked at him. “Sorry.”</p><p>“It’s fine.” He said, smiling stoically at you as he went over to the DVD stack and put one in the machine. “More for me. You guys don’t know what you’re missing.”</p><p>He settled himself down on his recliner and you reached over to rub his calf over his jeans in a gesture that you hoped let him know that you really were sorry and he reached over and ran his hand softly over your hair to let you know he knew. “You ready for my Christmas movie pick? Best Christmas movie of all time?”</p><p>You grabbed a handful of popcorn, passing the bowl to Sam and watched as ‘Die Hard’ began to play. The first few minutes were spent with the boys arguing about whether or not ‘Die Hard’ was in fact a Christmas movie at all, but finally they stopped and you all just watched as John McClane took on Hans Gruber’s gang in the Nakatomi Plaza building. Of all the things you had forgotten, ‘Die Hard’ was not one of them but you enjoyed it, even though you knew it so well. The movie was great just as you’d always found it to be but the best part was the adorable way Dean got so excited and started reciting the dialogue along with Bruce Willis. He did it with ‘Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs…’ and ‘Welcome to the party, pal.’ It was beyond cute; the joy on his face. The look of pure happiness when he said ‘Yippee Kay-ay, Motherfucker!’ made you smile so wide your cheeks hurt. It was so simple but you couldn’t deny, Deanmas was working. It was making you happy and as the end credits of the movie played you did feel kind of festive.</p><p>Then it was Sam’s turn to pick. You weren’t surprised that his choice was ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’ You knew it was his favourite Christmas movie.</p><p>‘Die Hard’ was loud and boisterous and so much fun. ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ was classic and heartfelt and understated. They both typified the boys in many ways. No wonder you hadn’t known where to start with picking one yourself, you thought.</p><p>“Finally…you’re going to watch this?” You asked Dean, surprised. It was such a classic and you remembered that he’d never seen it. Or at least that is what you had thought, but one look at his face told you, you were wrong. “Oh…you saw it already.” You said, your voice coming out all quiet.</p><p>“Um….yeah. You kind of made me.” He said, looking sorry to remind you of yet another thing you’d forgotten. “Last year. You said it was one of your favourites and….well…yeah, we watched it.”</p><p>“Yeah, I ask him to watch Frank Capra’s classic starring James Stewart, one of the finest American actors of all time and he refuses. You asked and it was all ‘Y/N says it’s really good.’” Sam said, doing his deep voiced impression of Dean and then rolled his eyes.</p><p>Dean ignored him. “But I don’t remember it that well….so it’s kinda like the first time….” He said, lying, unconvincingly.</p><p>“It’s fine….I just didn’t know, that’s all.” You said, and it was true, it made no real difference whether he’d seen it or not. It was just another thing that you hadn’t remembered. You smiled at him as you settled back into the bean bag. “God, I love this movie.” You said, hearing the quiet, soft way Dean said…</p><p>“I know, honey.” His voice was sweet and full of affection. He missed you. You could tell that he missed you so much and you didn’t know what to do with that because you were sat right there next to him.</p><p>You knew you’d cry during the movie, because you always did. Even though you didn’t remember watching it with Dean last year, you had watched it numerous times with Sam before and he clearly remembered too, pre-emptively and discreetly passing you tissues before the scenes he knew tugged at your heart strings.</p><p>He passed one to you just before George Bailey said ‘What do you want, Mary? Do you want the moon? If you want it, I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down for you. Hey, that’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.’</p><p>That line always got you. You remembered watching it when you were younger and wishing…wishing that someone loved you that much that they wanted to do whatever it took to make you happy. As you stole a quick glance at Dean, sat on his recliner, snacking on liquorice and no doubt on some level already planning the next day of Deanmas, it was hard not to feel even more emotional knowing that you’d sort of found it. That very thing you’d been wishing for your whole life.</p><p>Even better perhaps, you thought, as without taking his eyes off the screen he reached behind him and took a beer from the mini fridge and opened it, passing it to you without saying a word. He didn’t have to. The gesture itself said it all…</p><p>’Don’t be sad. We’re just hangin’ out watching movies. I got you.’ It said. And as you looked at him, he glanced away from the TV only for a second, just a brief second, and only to give you the quickest, reassuring little wink and whilst smiling, open his eyes comically wide and mouth the words ‘Watch the Movie!’ at you. Which you did, turning your head back towards George Bailey, a warm smile resting easy on your lips.</p><p>.</p><p>When Dean knocked on your door on Day 3, you weren’t sure what to expect. You couldn’t help but crack up when he entered and you saw what he was wearing.</p><p>“That is hands down the ugliest Christmas sweater I have ever seen!” You said, through your laughter as you took the cup of hot chocolate that you hadn’t asked for but he’d brought you anyway, from his hands, watching as he dropped a handful of marshmallows into it. “Thank you. So, that’s the plan for today? Tacky knitwear?”</p><p>“Hey!” He said, in mock offence, standing up straight and smoothing the front of it down over his torso. It was red with a giant Santa face on it. You reached out and stroked the fluffy beard of it which was made from soft white mohair that stood out from the rest of it. “I’ll have you know someone very special to me got me this.”</p><p>“Me? I bought you that?” You said, disbelievingly.</p><p>“Sure did.” He said, looking proud. “You got it for me and you forced me to wear it. Though, I mean…I kinda like it now.”</p><p>“I can’t believe you let me make you wear that.” You said, shaking your head.</p><p>“You were….very convincing.” He said, using a tone that made you think sexual favours had been part of your persuasion.</p><p>“I promised you a…roll in the sleigh?” You asked.</p><p>He laughed a little. “Something like that….but also you just asked and I knew it’d make you happy.”</p><p>“God! I don’t remember being such a….”</p><p>He looked at you with his eyebrows raised waiting for you to finish your sentence. He looked weirdly protective of past you.</p><p>“….it sounds like I had a lot of Christmas spirit. It sounds kind of…annoying.” You finished.</p><p>He sat down on your bed. He took a moment to choose his words, pouting slightly before turning to you to speak. “I don’t think you were that into it in the past. You told me that you’d never really gotten excited about it before but slowly every year you were here, in the bunker, with us…you got more and more into it. That you loved us and loved being here with us so much that you couldn’t help it. That Christmas had just seemed like a bunch of stupid traditions before. Stuff you couldn’t really get behind. But that doing stuff with me and Sam and decorating the bunker and all the rest of it…” He shrugged and smiled, his face all warm and affectionate, “…you said you felt like you had a lot to be grateful for and if you couldn’t enjoy that at Christmas, when could you?”</p><p>You took a sip from your steaming mug as you took in his words. Past you was a little annoying with all the jolly, holly-ness…but also, she had a point. The bunker, the boys…it was a lot to be grateful for.</p><p>“…and then last year. You just went all out. It was nearly our anniversary and you were just really happy and you told me and Sam that Christmas was coming to the bunker and we better get on board and….to be honest…it was actually just really infectious, all the seasonal joy stuff.”</p><p>“It sounds relentless and annoying.”</p><p>He smiled wider, his eyes resting on the floor for a minute as he thought back, lost in happy memories. “Nah…anyone else? They would have been annoying, maybe. But you…you put thought into it all and you just wanted us all to be happy. You were just…full of love. It was….nice.”</p><p>“And Sam got involved? I’m guessing I didn’t offer to ‘jingle his bells’…why did he put up with it?”</p><p>“He loves you and he liked to see you happy? But also…..it was kind of a little bit of you being an unstoppable force, I think it was easier to get on board than to try and fight it y’know? And also just…you always seemed to find a way to get us both totally carried away with it before we even knew what was happening. And by that point we’d all just be together and happy and laughin’ and shit…and it was kinda hard to care if it was cheesy or over the top or whatever.”</p><p>You watched and felt sad for him. He looked kind of bereft without you. Without the older, better version of you.</p><p>“OK.” You said, filling your voice with enthusiasm to try and lift his spirits. “So, Day 3 is Christmas sweaters?”</p><p>He nodded and then he looked at you suspiciously, clearly picking up on something under your turbo charged eagerness. You were loving that the pace of Deanmas so far had been relaxed and easy…however, from what you knew of Dean there was something missing. He was a fan of big gestures. Or maybe he wasn’t. What did you know anymore?</p><p>“What?” He asked.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’re thinking something.”</p><p>“No, I’m not.”</p><p>“Y/N…..I know you. I know when you’re thinking something you’re not telling me.”</p><p>“No…it’s just…don’t get me wrong…I’m loving it all so far…I just….knowing you, I was expecting Deanmas to be more…..” You searched for the right word but couldn’t find it. “…um…dramatic? Flamboyant?”</p><p>He looked at you confused, his eyes narrowing as he gave you a slightly amused if not mock offended look.</p><p>“Dramatic and flamboyant? You make me sound like freakin’ Elton John or something! I can promise you, there are no silver jumpsuits involved at Deanmas.”</p><p>You laughed despite yourself. “Awwww….but you’d look so cute!” You said, playing up the fake disappointment.</p><p>“Flamboyant?!” He said, quietly, to nobody in particular, under his breath as he shook his head. “I think what you meant to say was ‘Epic’…and yeah, maybe there are more ‘epic’ days under construction.”</p><p>“Oh really?” You said, still laughing at him.</p><p>“Yeah.” He said, smiling at you. He looked so happy when you smiled or laughed, like it reminded him of happier times. “I just wanted to ease you in. I know it probably all still feels a bit….overwhelming, at times.”</p><p>“It does.” You said. “But…I don’t know. You’re so great with me. Sam too….It helps.”</p><p>“So….you’ll wear your Christmas sweater?”</p><p>“I’d love to. Really, I would.” You lied, “But unfortunately, I don’t have one.” You said, shrugging at him in an ‘oh no, how sad but it can’t be helped’ fashion.</p><p>He let out a laugh, not a genuine one, but one that let you know you were mistaken. He got up and walked over to your cupboard, opening it and rifling about at the back of it.</p><p>“Yeah….there you are!” He said, pulling something out of it and lifting it up for you to see. In his hands he held a red sweater with a big applique reindeer head on it, with a big red nose made of sequins and brown fur to make up the antlers.</p><p>“Oh! Oh, wow…” You said.</p><p>“And you never looked more beautiful.” Dean said, and though his words made you question it, weirdly, his tone didn’t.</p><p>“And you expect me to wear this?” You asked.</p><p>He looked at you and nodded before raising his eyebrows at you as he grinned, knowing he’d get his way in the end. To add insult to injury he pushed the nose and from somewhere inside the jumper ‘Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer’ started to play.</p><p>“Of course. Like all high fashion it has a battery pack.” You said, sarcastically at him.</p><p>For a moment there was a stand off of sorts. You looked at him and he looked back at you. You watched as he refused to back down, the grin still on his lips.</p><p>“Urgh, fine!” You said, standing up to take off the plain, normal sweater you had on over your vest top and replacing it with the Rudolph one.</p><p>“Oh, yeah!” He said, as you pulled it down and looked at yourself in the mirror. “You look…” You turned to him and saw the cheesy grin as he did a chef’s kiss gesture and beamed.</p><p>“So I said, I’d wear it….but you never said, anything about me leaving my room right?” You asked, failing to keep a smile from your own face. Sure, the sweaters weren’t exactly your outfit of choice but they were making him smile which in turn was making you smile….it was hard to stay grumpy when you were wearing a lovable cartoon style reindeer on your chest, you realised. Or when Dean was looking at you so pleased with his Deanmas handiwork.</p><p>“Oh, I think you’ll want to leave your room….” He said, sounding confident of the fact. You turned to face him with your eyebrow raised. “So…you know…one of the things I love most about you, is that I think you are the only person who likes messing with Sammy as much as I do…”</p><p>“What? No! I made Sam wear one of these…?” You said, your eyes wide with shock that Sam would let you talk him into wearing novelty knitwear.</p><p>You hurried to the library with urgency, following Dean and desperate to see what 6’4, broad shouldered Sam looked like. When you got there, you saw Sam hunched over a number of important and serious looking books which only made it funnier when he sat back as he heard your arrival.</p><p>If you had laughed when you had seen Dean in his, that was nothing compared to the unrestrained hysterics you now found yourself in looking at Sam. It was hard not to. Dean couldn’t seem to hold back either, laughing so hard and loud that he was almost bent over double.</p><p>Sam’s face was drawn into his bitch face at your reaction. And then he rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding? You got me this and you made me wear it all of Christmas last year!?”</p><p>It was a very close fit over his large frame. It was Christmas green for the most part but with red and white candy cane striped edges around the neck and the ends of both sleeves. The front of it was a woven picture of Santa but under a big sign that said ‘Santa’s Workshop’ and around him were little knitted elves and each elf had a felt hat, and on the end of each hat was a bell that had been sewn on to the wool.</p><p>“Oh….my…God….Sam….I’m so sorry….but also…you look…great!” You and Dean were finding hard to breathe. It wasn’t the sweater in itself but the way it looked stretched over Sam’s large frame and the utter look of unimpressed disgust on his face.</p><p>And maybe also the sweater in itself.</p><p>“Now, who’s ‘dramatic and flamboyant’?” Dean asked making you laugh even more.</p><p>Sam watched you and something in him obviously broke as he huffed out a laugh too. And then assumed a ‘fair enough, laugh it up’ expression as he slammed his leather bound book shut and sat back in his chair.</p><p>“I have bells.” He said, shaking slightly so you could hear them. And that nearly broke you completely.</p><p>“Oh Sam….” You said, wiping tears of laughter from your face. You turned to Dean, crying with laughter too. “…well, I guess after he ‘nearly’ walked in on us in the kitchen that time….pretty smart of me to put bells on him…”</p><p>Dean’s laughter surged even harder at that and neither of you could stand. You hadn’t laughed like this for a really long time and it felt really, really good. The laughter was so infectious that even Sam joined in for a moment although that didn’t last very long.</p><p>“Wait. What? What were you doing in the…..urgh….” He said his face screwing up in disgust. Yeah, he should never know what had happened in his bed, you thought.</p><p>.</p><p>On Day 4, Dean came and got you from your room in the late afternoon.</p><p>“So….I think it’s time we got a tree.” He said, leaning in your doorway. “I was thinking you could come and pick one out with me.”</p><p>“Sure.” You said and you grabbed your boots and your jacket and met him in the garage.</p><p>You needed to take a car that wasn’t Baby so the tree could be tied to a roof rack. It felt weird driving in another car, almost like you were being unfaithful to the Impala you both loved but there was no way either of you would want a roof rack on her, so you got in and off you went.</p><p>“Hey…” He said, turning the radio down as you made your way towards town. “You know how you were sayin’ you thought Deanmas would be more…grand….or whatever?”</p><p>“Yeah. But I was just messing around. Deanmas is awesome…and I believe my actual words were ‘dramatic and flamboyant.’”</p><p>“Sure. Yeah. Whatever….well, I had something planned for tomorrow but I wanted to check if you’d be alright with it.”</p><p>“Oh, OK….what did you have in mind?” You asked, genuinely intrigued by a plan that needed your permission up front.</p><p>“Well….that’s still a surprise….but…” He took a pause for a second. A pause that made you nervous. “…it will involve an overnight stay. Separate rooms, of course. Just…I know familiarity has been kinda important to you since….and I wanted to know if you thought it’d be OK?”</p><p>You smiled. He acted all cavalier and ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ but he really was the most thoughtful man you’d ever met.</p><p>“Is Sam coming?” You asked.</p><p>“I thought it could just be you and me? Sammy’s a big boy. He can take care of himself for one night.”</p><p>“Oh, OK….sure.”</p><p>“Yeah?” He asked, suddenly sounding excited. He’d been right. You had clung to the familiarity of the boys and the bunker over the past few months and the idea of being away made you slightly uncomfortable, but you’d be with him and perhaps you could do with pushing yourself, you thought. Also…you saw how happy he looked that you’d said yes and nothing in you wanted to even chance undoing his smile.</p><p>“Yeah.” You said, laughing. Man, his happiness was infectious.</p><p>“Wanna go for a walk through town first? I’ve still got Sam and Jody to buy presents for, maybe I’ll see something that’d be good for them.” He said. You saw the look on his face, he looked happy and you weren’t going to pour cold water on his Deanmas fire. Not this time.</p><p>“Yeah. Sounds good.” You said, smiling at him.</p><p>Lebanon town centre was small but strangely the Christmas spirit was strong here. They had put up Christmas lights. They were wrapped around every lamp post and they adorned the big tree in the centre of town. The window displays all glowed with soft lights and Christmas colours and they were all the more charming for looking homemade and ‘small town’.</p><p>He reached for your hand as you walked, you were pretty sure as an unchecked old habit. It felt unusual to you but you let it go, not wanting to make a big thing of it. To be honest, you couldn’t deny, it felt kind of nice too. The crush you’d always had on him was still there within you, even in the muddle of your fragmented mind, and you noticed your heart still fluttered as you felt the warmth of his big, strong hand as it enfolded yours within it. He must have thought better of it though as after a block or so he let it go, quietly and without mentioning it. You shoved your hand into the pocket of your jacket and continued to walk.</p><p>“It’s cold.” You said, keeping a jovial tone in your voice as you made small talk.</p><p>“Oh, shit. Um….did you bring a scarf or something? I could go back to the car and get it? Or you can have my jacket? Wear it over yours?”</p><p>You looked at him slyly. “And what would you wear?”</p><p>“I’ll be alright. I’m hot blooded.” He said, winking at you cheekily and then shrugging as if nothing could get at him, not even the bitter nip in the air. He made as if to take off his jacket.</p><p>“Dean, it’s fine. Please don’t take that jacket off! I’m good. And no, no scarf….I was just…saying.”</p><p>“Oh…OK…well…let me know if you need it my jacket, OK? Honestly, I’ll be fine.”</p><p>You looked at him as you walked. Feeling the swell in your heart at feeling so loved and taken care of by him. The comforting way that whatever was happening he would move heaven and earth to make sure you were OK, that you were warm and safe and loved. He did it for you. He did it for Sam. More than anything in the world what you wanted was to do that for him too. So he knew. Knew that he got to be safe and warm and loved too. That he deserved it. Because he did.</p><p>“It should be snowing.” You said, absentmindedly chatting as you walked. “Then it’d really look like a Christmas card.”</p><p>You walked past a group of carollers singing ‘Silent Night’ and both slowed slightly to take it in. They were all bundled up and huddled closely as they sang. Something about the comforting familiarity of the song, slow and peaceful and filling the air with sweet festive richness, softened some part of you. You reached out and pulled Dean back, putting your arms around him in a big hug, right there on the street corner. It had already started to get dark, and as you pulled out of the hug, just slightly, you watched as the lamp light lit his features. He was so handsome, it really could take your breath away.</p><p>He smiled at you, his brows drawn in slight confusion briefly. “What was that for?” He asked, a slight laugh under his words.</p><p>“’Cause you’re awesome. Just because I’m a mess and all over the place and everything’s confusing for me….don’t think I’ve forgotten that. That’s like…the one thing I could never, ever forget. And Deanmas…the whole thing….everything…all the things you do for me…” You struggled hard to find words to convey how much it all meant, how much he meant , but they didn’t come, you weren’t sure they even existed. “….just thank you. For being patient and not giving up on me….thank you.”</p><p>And you pushed yourself back into him, back into the warmth of his hugging, open arms and felt him draw them tight around you, squeezing you back.</p><p>“Sweetheart, you never have to thank me for a goddamn thing. And you never have to worry about me giving up on you. That’s just never gonna happen. Not ever.” He said, quietly but firmly into your ear before he kissed you on the top of your head. He kept on holding you tight, swaying you ever so slightly in his arms, letting you be the one who pulled away first. And when you did, you looked at him again in the lamp light, taking in his soft, heartfelt smile and the crinkles by his eyes.</p><p>You both stood there, on the glowing street corner, staring into each other’s eyes. It was a moment for sure. You could feel, palpably feel, the weighty flow of a million unsaid things passing between you. And you felt too how different it was; this wasn’t familial or platonic like you were used to. It didn’t even feel just romantic or sexy or anything like that. It just felt like…love. Strong and true and still there; even if you’d forgotten how you got there – it was clear in that moment that it still remained in you both. And between you. You swallowed thickly as the moment seemed to spread out longer and longer, until eventually the carollers changed songs, suddenly singing ‘Carol of the Bells’.</p><p>“Fuck! This song is so fucking creepy!” You said, aware that although it was true and that genuinely was how you felt, you were definitely ruining the moment.</p><p>Dean cracked up, relaxing his hold around you as he laughed. “You have always hated that song.” He said, laughing still as you continued to walk.</p><p>You walked down past the shops and eateries and the cinema, seeing the group of kids that always gawped at the boys whisper amongst themselves as they watched you and Dean walk past.</p><p>Dean was wondering out loud what to get Sam for Christmas this year when you stopped in front of the jewellery place.</p><p>“I don’t think jewellery is really his style.” Dean said, laughing as he stopped next to you.</p><p>“No…” You said, rolling your eyes at him. “Does that look….familiar to you?” You asked, pointing at a necklace in the window display. It was a delicate chain with a pendant made of one large garnet stone and two smaller diamonds.</p><p>“Oh.” He said, his voice quiet. “Yeah…it looks like something you used to have.”</p><p>You had guessed as much by the way your hand had instinctively reached for your neck, as if to check for a necklace, but there was nothing there. “Wait….yeah…I used to have something like that…I remember….sort of….”</p><p>“Yeah….it was a family heirloom kinda thing…It wasn’t exactly the same…the red stone was smaller and rounder and there was the diamonds were one on either side instead the top and the bottom like that…but yeah….you did.”</p><p>Yes, now he’d said it, you remembered. Vaguely. You didn’t have a lot in the way of stuff that came down through your family but you’d had that. It had been your grandmother’s, your mother’s and then yours.</p><p>“It got lost…in Cedar Rapids. In the fight. I went back. I promise, I went back and I scoured that whole place but I couldn’t find it….I’m so sorry Y/N….”</p><p>You couldn’t stop staring at the necklace but you had enough wits about you to say “It’s OK. It’s not your fault. Thanks for looking.”</p><p>He lifted his hand to gently stroke your hair back behind your ear, a little touch of affection to show you he was there and he knew it had meant something to you. That he hated seeing you losing one more part of your past.</p><p>“I’m sorry all the same. I know you loved it. I know it meant a lot to you.” He said, and his eyes focussed in on yours, full of how much it hurt him to see you so sad.</p><p>“It’s OK. It’s just a possession, right? If I was stupid enough to wear it on a hunt then it was kind of my own fault.” You said, trying to force a brave face as you pushed a smile onto your lips.</p><p>“Not really. You wore it all the time.” He said, his voice full of soft, kindness. “Like I said, it meant a lot to you.”</p><p>“What’s one more lost thing?!” You said, wanting it to come across like a joke but hearing the way it came out bitter instead.</p><p>“You want to go inside and look at it properly?</p><p>“No.” You said, definitively, shaking your head. “It was an heirloom. That’s why it was special. From my family, my childhood….my past. It’s gone now. Some time’s things are lost and they just….can’t be replaced. I don’t want…another version of it. It was special. Now it’s gone.”</p><p>You knew how his mind worked. Knew he’d think of getting it for you. Knew he’d want to be your George Bailey, throwing a lasso around the moon for you.</p><p>“I mean it Dean. Somethings are special because of what they were. You can’t buy back the past. Even though I know you want to.” You added. “Some things even you can’t fix.”</p><p>You really didn’t want to cry, especially not about jewellery. Even though you knew that wasn’t really what the tears would be about, you made a concerted effort to pull yourself together.</p><p>“So…tree?” You said, turning to him and forcing your smile to be big.</p><p>You made your way back to the car, a mood of quiet sadness hanging over you both and made your way to the Christmas Tree lot. You wandered through the Fir’s, Pine’s and Spruce’s, all of them looking the same to you, lost as you were in the dismal mood that you desperately tried to keep from him, though you knew he could tell it was there. He picked out a tall, lush looking Douglas Fir and you nodded enthusiastically.</p><p>“Perfect!” You said, loudly, forced jolliness ringing out through your words.</p><p>The salesman helped Dean and you to tie it to the roof rack and you began your journey home.</p><p>“Feels so weird driving not in Baby.” You said, largely just to say something. Not wanting the whole journey to be in silence.</p><p>And suddenly, out of nowhere, a memory stirred. You didn’t push, didn’t try and wrestle into consciousness, hoping that this new approach would help it stay and to your delight, it worked. As you tried not to chase it, it bloomed in your mind, playing like a movie in your head.</p><p>You were having a conversation with Dean in the garage of the bunker.</p><p>“But she doesn’t have snow tyres. We should take the one that has tyres for the snow. I’ll miss her just as much as you.” You said laughing.</p><p>Dean’s face bristled with displeasure at the idea of going anywhere not in Baby. He’d conceded eventually, but only for you, because you’d been so insistent. Because to him you were precious cargo.</p><p>You hadn’t been together then, it was just after the last birthday of his that you remembered and you were heading out on a case that would take you north, into the snow. Sam had been somewhere else. Maybe with Garth? At any rate, he hadn’t been there but he’d said he’d meet you where you were headed and so you’d gone, just the two of you, in the other car. The not-Baby car.</p><p>You remembered driving and at first it was clear weather but then you were driving in the snow. The tyres were good but the car itself was clearly not.</p><p>You remembered the engine sputtering out as Dean had steered you off the road so that as the car died on its ass, at least you weren’t precariously on the road. Not that it mattered, you hadn’t seen another car for a long time and you remembered that you didn’t see one again for quite some time.</p><p>“No…no…no….c’mon you piece of crap!” He shouted as he tried the ignition time and again, stopping eventually, mindful not to flood the engine. He got out to look under the hood and you followed, standing next to him in the falling snow to watch as he fiddled with the engine. Then he said something about modern cars being ‘worthless junk’ and you’d had a fight, not a mean one, but you were both frustrated. He was annoyed that he’d let you talk him out of bringing Baby and you felt guilty that you’d made him. You bickered briefly but the snow was now coming down in thick clumps that seemed to cling together even as they fell, dancing frenetically on the blasts of icy winds. You got back into the car, freezing, and watched as he called Sam to explain.</p><p>“He’ll get here as soon as he can but he’s nowhere near us.” Dean said, hanging up and tossing his phone on the dash.</p><p>You sat there in silence as you fought the frustrated urge not to be pissy and tell him that this, this, was why normal people had roadside assistance and he fought the urge to rage once again about how this, this, was why he never went anywhere without Baby if he could help it.</p><p>It had been cold at first as you sat in the car helplessly waiting for Sam, but then as time went on and you sat in the cold trapped air of the broken down car, watching as frost kissed the windows under a thick layer of snow….then  it was a cold that was something else…something unyielding, fiercely bitter and numbing as it crept into your bones, your toes feeling frozen in your boots and your breath coming out in smoky clouds as if a ghost was nearby. You started to shiver, feeling wretched for the cold and your helplessness and your guilt.</p><p>“I’m so sorry.” You said to him, meaning it. “I promise, I’ll never suggest leaving her at home again.”</p><p>He looked at you and you could visibly see all his frustration at you leave him.</p><p>“You’re cold.” He said, stating the obvious with concern as he pulled you towards him, taking your hands in his to try and warm them.</p><p>“It’s fine. It’s my fault so….” You said, through chattering teeth.</p><p>“No. It’s this piece of crap excuse for a cars fault. What’s the point in snow tyres if the actual car itself is a heap of shit? Get in the back.” He said, definitively telling and not asking.</p><p>“What?” You asked, but it was too late. He’d already gotten out of the car and was looking for something in the trunk.</p><p>You got into the back seat and he joined you after a minute or so.</p><p>“Here, layer up.” He said, throwing a number of sweaters and cardigans that he’d taken from your case and his, as well as an extra thick pair of socks at you. You put them on, still shivering.</p><p>“I look like the Michelin Man.” You said, as you watched the extra layers add unshapely bulk.</p><p>“Who gives a shit if you’re warmer? Always liked a woman with curves, anyway.” He said, smiling widely as he took off his jacket to add an extra few layers himself and waited for you to be done before pulling open the blanket he’d taken from the trunk and motioning for you to come closer. “Gotta huddle up, share some body heat.”</p><p>You laughed without meaning too. “That sounds like such a line! Wow. ‘Body Heat’? I can’t believe you just said that.” You did as he asked though, slotting yourself against him and letting him bring his arm down around you and run it up and down along yours to create some warming friction as he wrapped the blanket around you both.</p><p>“Yep. I created this whole fucking blizzard just so I could say that line and somehow end up getting you into even more clothes than you were in before. You’re onto me.” He said, the sarcasm dripping from every word. “If that was my game, I’d have told you that actually you should be worried about hypothermia, and the best cure for that would be that we should get naked before we get under the blanket. That’s true…you know…the hypothermia thing?”</p><p>“Yeah…I believe I’ve heard something like that before.” You said, enjoying how good it felt to be close to him like this, wishing there weren’t as many layers of clothing between you but being so cold that you couldn’t have stood removing a single thing, trying to discreetly inhale as much of his scent as you could; that Dean smell that smelt both incredibly sexy but also comforting, like home. Although how one scent could be both was beyond you. Still, it somehow was.</p><p>“Good job, that’s not your ‘game’, huh?” You’d said, laughing. “Plus I think we’re a couple of hours off hypothermia yet. And wouldn’t I have to be wet for that?” You’d meant it so innocuously but even you heard the connotations in the accidental double entendre.</p><p>Dean had raised his eyebrow at you as his face broke up in a huge grin before he creased up laughing.</p><p>“I meant from like the snow or whatever.” You said, more flustered than you wanted to be, feeling your cheeks warm in embarrassment.</p><p>“I can’t believe you just said that.” He said, as his laughter slowly subsided. “Sounded like a challenge.”</p><p>You looked at him, his green eyes sparkling above his wolfish grin. He looked like he was playfully daring you to flirt back with him, the way you sometimes did. But you were so close, your faces inches away from each other, pulled in close with his arm around you, holding you near and keeping you warm. You remembered how at that time you’d been struggling anyway, trying to keep all your feelings for him wrestled into submission so as not to ruin the friendship that meant so much to you. You remembered how powerful your feelings were and how tight a rein you always had to keep on them. You remembered being afraid of how much you wanted him and how much you cared; how much you could tell yourself that it was no big deal but you knew deep down, even then, that that was a lie.</p><p>“God…you really will flirt with anything, won’t you?” You said, trying to diffuse the tension by taking it back to good natured ribbing.</p><p>“What? How dare you?!” He’d said, amping up his mock offence before looking at you with furrowed brows. “And…..are you….did you just refer to yourself as ‘anything’?”</p><p>You shrugged against his arm. “You’re always telling me how I’m ‘family’…seems weird that you’d flirt with a member of your family. So yeah, ‘anything.’”</p><p>“OK, firstly….when I say that, you know I mean that you’re important and special and that you mean a lot to…us. I…we’d do anything for you. Secondly, I do not ‘always’ tell you that. And thirdly…don’t you ever refer to yourself as ‘anything’ around me again…Don’t talk about yourself like that. I don’t like it.”</p><p>He looked genuinely put out by your turn of phrase and although you hadn’t meant it self deprecatingly, it was kind of touching how protective of you he was, even against yourself.</p><p>You were still shivering and he took your hands in his again under the blanket, running his hands in turn over each to try and warm them.</p><p>“How would you like me to talk about myself then?” You asked, desperate for distraction from the cold.</p><p>“Well….like you’re special. Because you are. Jesus…your hands are like fuckin’ ice.”</p><p>“Thank you.” You said, quietly. “For thinking I’m special.”</p><p>He gave you a look. A no nonsense ‘stop being such a dick look’. His lips slightly pursed as he raised an eyebrow. “You know I think that….we both do. I don’t know why you’re being such a girl about it.”</p><p>You laughed. “Um…because I’m a girl? You may have noticed.”</p><p>He looked at you and the playful smile was back. “I may have.” God, that smile. His lips were gorgeous anyway, so pink and full and seemingly begging to be kissed, but when he smiled like that…you felt it. Even though you didn’t want to. And he was close right then. So very close.</p><p>“Is it time to get naked yet?” He asked.</p><p>“What?” You said, your voice louder than you’d expected it to be.</p><p>He laughed. “The hypothermia.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Are you still thinking you’ve gotta be wet for that?”</p><p>“Dean….”</p><p>“What?” He said, shrugging innocently. “You said it.”</p><p>“You knew what I meant.”</p><p>“Yeah….but still.” The cocky swagger in him should not have come across the way it did. It should have been brash and off putting but it wasn’t. It was somehow charming and sexy. It was the last thing you needed when you were trying to keep those feelings under wraps.</p><p>“You shouldn’t flirt like that.” You said.</p><p>“No? You used to like it. You used to flirt back.”</p><p>“Yeah well…..it could ruin our friendship.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure what we have is stronger than that. But I’ll stop. Or I’ll try. If you don’t like it….”</p><p>“I never said I didn’t like it. Flirting with you is fun, it’s always been fun but just….you shouldn’t.”</p><p>“OK. If that’s what you want, I’ll try. But it’s gonna be hard.”</p><p>He looked at you deeply, his emerald eyes burning with intensity. You heard the warning voice in your head telling you that this was just how he was, that he just flirted like this, that it didn’t mean anything. Telling you to pull back. But you didn’t listen.</p><p>“Yeah? Why’s that?” You said, knowing even as you said it that you were straying into dangerous territory.</p><p>He shrugged, looking up as he pouted, one eyebrow raising itself as his gaze returned to yours. “It’s hard not to flirt with you sometimes. You’re very beautiful.” He paused as you shifted uncomfortably, letting out a small self deprecating huff. “Hey…I said, I’d stop and I will OK but that doesn’t mean what I just said isn’t true. You’re beautiful. And sexy. And you always smell so good.” He leaned in close to your neck and inhaled deeply before letting the breath out through his nose slowly on the quietest moan of satisfaction. “You might not want to hear it from me. But you should still hear it.”</p><p>“What? Why, wouldn’t I want to hear it from you?” You asked, not fully sure what he was getting at.</p><p>“Because I’m getting that you don’t like it when I tell you stuff like that. Or when we flirt. That’s OK. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. But…..it’s true, all the same.”</p><p>“I’m not uncomfortable because it’s you. If anything hearing that from you is…hugely flattering.”</p><p>“Yeah? How come?” He settled back against the seat, still stroking your hands but shifting slightly so he could look at your face easily.</p><p>“Well….because you’re…urgh!” You said, letting out a sound of frustration, “You’re really gonna make me say it?”</p><p>He shrugged and pouted at you before continuing to smile. “I don’t know what you’re gonna say!” He said, laughing.</p><p>“Fine. You’re gorgeous. Annoyingly, beautifully gorgeous. It’s actually a little offensive-“</p><p>“Offensive?” He laughed.</p><p>“Yes. Offensive. Because no one should be that good looking. And you are and it’s effortless and that’s….well…it’s just annoying. And you’re sexy and charming and hot and you do this whole sexy swagger thing and that’s annoying too because it shouldn’t work and yet it does and it makes women just fall in love with you and again, it shouldn’t but it does. And you smell good too. So good. And your eyes are beautiful and the way the skin by them crinkles up when you smile is adorably cute and you have these nice full lips, and they always look like they should be being kissed. And all of that’s enough but then you add it to the facts that you are funny and smart and kind and like, the best hunter I’ve ever seen and you’re brave and strong and even that’s annoying because you do stupid shit like twirl your blade or whatever and you make it look easy and sexy and cool and sometimes you say these lines like a fucking Bond villain, with the puns and shit, and even that somehow works. And you have this amazing big heart and the way you love Sam and me and the way you take care of people and protect them and….and…” You suddenly realised just how far your speech had spiralled out of control. So much for a ‘tight rein’, you thought as your embarrassment deepened. The voice in your head was louder now as it told you to seriously, pull it back. “…yeah, so it’s flattering if you think nice things about me.” You said, trying and failing claw back control.</p><p>He just looked at you, blinking slowly as he took in the barrage of compliments.</p><p>“Wait! What?” He said eventually. “I don’t follow. You think I’m hot. And great…by all accounts…”</p><p>You inwardly groaned knowing you were never going to live this down.</p><p>“…and that’s why you don’t want me to flirt with you anymore?”</p><p>“Yes.” You said, but it came out quiet and unconvincing as you looked away feeling mortified by everything you’d said and how far out of control the whole conversation had spiralled. It wasn’t as if you could escape into the snowy wilderness outside either. You were trapped.</p><p>He let go of your hand, lifting his to run along your jaw, softly guiding you to look back at him.</p><p>“But what if I can’t not flirt with you because I think all those things too? That you are annoyingly beautiful. And sexy. And hot. It’s really fuckin’ annoying because I don’t want to find you so hot when we’re researching or hunting or I can’t help but notice that you look really good or that you’re biting your lip and it drives me crazy. Or in the mornings when we’re having breakfast or whatever and you come in, in your pyjama’s and you look all cute and shit. Maybe I find that offensive. And that I think you are smart and funny and fucking awesome at hunting and maybe it’s annoying that sometimes I’m about to make a joke, like a really funny joke, and you just say it first and somehow say it better than I was going to. And you get me, more than any woman I’ve ever met. And I care about you and worry about you and love spending time with you and whenever I see anything cool I’m always like ‘Oh, I’ll tell Y/N and she’ll get a kick out of it….’….Maybe I find all of that really offensive and annoying and it makes it really hard not to flirt with you. Did you ever think of that, smartass?”</p><p>It was your turn to stare blankly at him now. “Um….honestly? No. No, I didn’t.”</p><p>“Well….maybe I’ll have to take back what I just said about you being smart.” He said, smiling warmly as his eyes scanned gently over your face from just a few inches away. “You said I make women fall in love with me….is that true….do you love me?”</p><p>You hadn’t anticipated him asking you the question so bluntly and in the moment you didn’t know what to say.</p><p>“Stop thinking. Stop worrying. Stop trying to think out what you should say….” He said softly, in his deep, low voice. “…and just answer me honestly. Do you love me? Are you in love with me?”</p><p>It felt strange to say it but now that he’d asked, what else could you do but be honest? “Yes. I love you. Yes. I am in love with you. Always figured if I ever said it it’d be because I was drunk…but yes.”</p><p>You watched his face as the smile deepened causing the sweetest dimples to form either side of it. “Yeah, I always thought I’d be drunk if I ever said it too?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I’m glad I’m not though. And I’m glad you’re not. Wouldn’t want you to forget the first time we do this…..” He said, leaning forward to cross the tiniest of spaces that was between you, stopping only to say, “I love you. I love you so much and I think I always have.”</p><p>And then his hand rose to hold the side of your face as his fingers splayed through the hair behind your ear and his thumb grazed your cheek, as he slowly pulled you closer. Then he looked into your eyes with his; those beautiful emerald eyes of his that you loved, shining with warmth and happiness before they shut and his lips touched yours.</p><p>They were soft but lush as they pressed against yours and then they parted, slowly and gently as he kissed against your top lip and then the bottom one and then pressed them against yours again. This time when they parted you felt his tongue, lightly graze yours and then glide against it. You had dreamt about kissing him for years and then, in the snow, in a broken down car as you huddled for warmth, it had happened. And it was magical. You had spent the remaining hours until Sam got to you simply kissing and telling each other that you loved each other, because neither of you seemed to be able to fully believe it.</p><p>And somehow now you remembered.</p><p>“Oh wow.” You said, as not only the memories but all the feelings from that day seemed to come flooding back.</p><p>“What? Are you OK?” He said, pulling slowly into the garage of the bunker but pausing as he did to look at you. “Fuck. Seriously….are you OK?” He said, his concern clear in his voice and on his face.</p><p>“Yeah….I just remembered something.” You said, the wide grin you couldn’t hold back already making your cheeks hurt slightly.</p><p>“Yeah? What did you remember? Are you sure that you’re OK?”</p><p>“Yeah….I remembered why we take cars that aren’t Baby when we need to put stuff on a roof rack but….not when we are gonna be out in the snow.” You said and it took him a minute to figure it out. Thankfully he’d finished parking because the way he looked at you, slow smile cautiously spreading across his face, made you think that if he’d still been driving he may well have lost all concentration and crashed. </p><p>“Really? That day in the snow in that piece of shit excuse for a car?”</p><p>You nodded as he let out a deep breath of relief that it seemed like he’d been holding in since you didn’t know when.</p><p>“The first kiss? The first time we said-“</p><p>“Yes. Yes! I remember.”</p><p>And he didn’t say anything for a moment. He just let his head fall back against the head rest as he stared at you, reaching across the seats to cup your face. And this time you didn’t flinch at all. You watched as he nodded and pursed his lips as if he was thinking of what to say but couldn’t find the words. In the end he just shook his head whilst his thumb ran over your cheek bone, slowly and gently tracing it with such sweet care.</p><p>“I knew you would.” He said, eventually. “You’ll remember the rest too. I know you will.”</p><p>You nodded, as you bit your lip, watching as his gaze dipped to focus in on it. Oh yeah, he’d said that drove him crazy hadn’t he? You stopped and smiled despite yourself. This was a lot of new information to process.</p><p>For the second time that day you uttered the words ‘So….tree?” to ease out of a situation you weren’t sure you knew how to handle, but this time you weren’t sad at all.</p><p>You got the tree in and between the three of you, over the course of the next few hours, you set it up in the War Room. Dean was in charge of lights and between you and Sam you added tinsel and baubles that apparently you’d used last year.</p><p>Sam went to the kitchen, hurrying back with a tray of eggnog.</p><p>“Careful!” Dean said, in a quiet aside to you. “He gets a little carried away with the rum sometimes.”</p><p>When you each had a glass in hand, Dean flipped the switch on the lights and the room, huge as it was, glowed with the beautiful incandescence of the multi coloured Christmas lights. You didn’t remember a time it had looked so beautiful.</p><p>You lifted your glass up to the boys.</p><p>“Merry Deanmas, guys!”</p><p>“Merry Deanmas!” They both said back as they raised their glasses to ‘clink’ against yours, Sam definitely laughing as he said it.</p><p>You took a sip. “Holy Fuck, Sam!” You said as the bitter, acrid taste of the eggnog burned on its way down.</p><p>He turned to you with a wide smile on his face and laughed loudly. “God Bless us, E’vry one!”</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the morning of Day 5 you were in the garage waiting by Baby, ready and packed, with Sam. You felt silly feeling emotional about not seeing him just for a night but after the past few months your world had gotten smaller and you’d clung to the bunker and the boys for support. You were glad you didn’t have to explain this to him, because he just seemed to ‘get it’, putting his big arm around you and pulling you in for a big hug.</p><p>“What will you do tonight?” You asked him, as he relaxed the hug but left his arm around you.</p><p>“There’s a true crime documentary I’ve been meaning to watch and I was gonna order from the vegan place Dean won’t eat food from.”</p><p>“Well, that all sounds really festive.” You said, rolling your eyes at him.</p><p>“Hey, Deanmas is for you not me.”</p><p>“The true spirit of Deanmas lives in all of us.” You said, laughing.</p><p>“Amen to that!” Said Dean, as he entered the garage, slinging his bags in Baby’s back seat.</p><p>“Do you know what he’s got planned?” You whispered to Sam.</p><p>He smiled at you. “Might do.” He said, smirking under raised eyebrows as he shrugged.</p><p>“Should I be worried?”</p><p>He laughed. “No. What you should do is go….have fun.”</p><p>“Urgh” You said, play acting a stroppy teenager as you got in the passenger side of Baby. “If I have to.”</p><p>“You do.” He said through his smile as he shut the door for you.</p><p>“Later Sammy!” Dean hollered, getting in the driver’s side and turning to you. “Ready?”</p><p>“As I’ll ever be.” You said, but you grinned at him. Whatever he had planned it was already great because he’d clearly put a lot of thought and effort into it and that already meant the world.</p><p>You waved to Sam as you pulled out of the garage feeling silly. You’d said goodbye for much longer stints with much less ceremony, but still, it was nice the way neither of them had made a ‘thing’ of it.</p><p>You drove for a long time which was fun in itself. You loved being in Baby and you loved road trips with Dean. As was the way, driver picked the music, but you knew he chose tapes and stations he knew you liked anyway and you both loudly sang along to the music. You remembered that being something you always loved to do and it still was. You loved the way, he got lost in it, singing and drumming along on the steering wheel and it made it hard for you not to cut loose too, singing and adding percussion by slapping along on Baby’s leather seats in a way that should have made you self conscious but weirdly didn’t. It was just fun. You were glad that nothing had dulled the sheer and easy happiness of being with him like this.</p><p>Eventually you pulled up in a car park and you laughed as you looked around and read the big sign. “Christkindl Market?!” You said, nodding slowly.</p><p>He looked at you, expectant like a kid who wanted to know if they’d done good and it was impossible not to melt at how hard he was working to make you happy.</p><p>You reached over the seat bank to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Let’s go get our bratwurst on.” You said.</p><p>“Hell Yeah!” He replied.</p><p>The Market was incredible. Wooden chalets with beautiful handcrafted gifts for sale. A huge tree in the middle, lit up and glowing even though it was still daylight. Christmas songs and tents. People everywhere. A Santa and a Christkindl, the Bavarian giver of gifts, or so the woman who handed you your pretzels explained, greeting the kids and asking what they wanted for the holidays. Everyone had huge smiles on their faces and the very air seemed laden with seasonal spirit.</p><p>You ate the pretzels and bratwurst and strudel and waffles and they all tasted delicious.</p><p>“Mmmm…so good!” Dean said as he bit into his strudel and he looked adorable even as he spoke with an open mouth. You laughed as you took a paper napkin from his hand and wiped the icing sugar that had settled on his nose from his enthusiastic bite. “It’s like pie. Not as good as pie but still…close enough.” He said, standing still to let you clean him up.</p><p>Then you’d wandered through all the chalets to find gifts for Sam and Jody, so Dean could complete all his gift buying.</p><p>He’d bought Sam a pair of carved wooden bookends one with a moose and one with a squirrel.</p><p>“He’ll like ‘em. Nerd.” He said, as the guy in the hut wrapped them up. “It’s because this guy, Crowley used to-“</p><p>“I remember Crowley. Squirrel and Moose. I gotcha.” You said, smiling.</p><p>“Sorry. I don’t know what you remember and what you don’t.”</p><p>“Don’t apologise. You’re doing it exactly right. Filling in gaps where I need. Letting me figure out what I can. Honestly. You’re perfect.” You said and his smile at hearing you say that made you want to tell him that again, every day.</p><p>Then there was a stall where you could pay to blow glass, under instruction, from the resident glass blower, and Dean stepped up to make a gift for Jody. The guy there worked with the molten glass, pouring it and doing the oven work as Dean sat himself down next to the pipe where craftsman placed the hot glowing blob of liquid glass and instructed Dean to blow which he did, creating a weirdly beautiful vase.</p><p>“Now she has proof that I’m full of hot air.” He said, laughing as he gave the guy Jody’s address to send it on once it had cooled. You watched him, impressed and when he got up he saw the look you were giving him.</p><p>“What?” He asked, his smile faltering slightly.</p><p>“No! God, nothing bad.” You said, smiling widely at him to reassure him. “You’re just….so good at everything. Like, everything. It’s impressive….if not a little annoying.”</p><p>He looked happy to know that it was nothing more troubling on your mind and his cocky demeanour was suddenly back again. “Yeah, I believe you’ve made that point before. About how ‘annoying’ I am.”</p><p>You thought back to your memories of that day in the car, pleased beyond belief that it had come back to you.</p><p>“And I believe I told you that you were pretty ‘annoying’ yourself.” He said, grinning at you.</p><p>“Dean Winchester, you say the sweetest things.” You said, laughing.</p><p>You wandered around the market for a while and then he stopped in front of a big beautiful carrousel. It was lit up beautifully, glowing almost ethereally, and had moving horses that looked beautifully painted even from a distance as the Merry Go Round music played.</p><p>“Wanna go round?” Dean asked, cocking his head in the carrousel’s direction.</p><p>“On that?” You asked, incredulously.</p><p>“No. On Space Mountain in Disney World.” He deadpanned before quickly adding. “Yes! On that.”</p><p>“I just….didn’t think you’d be a carrousel guy.”</p><p>“What? They’re horses?! It’s like being a cowboy.”</p><p>You laughed hard at that. That was a reach even for him.</p><p>“Yeah, I didn’t forget about your cowboy obsession.”</p><p>“It’s not an obsession!” He said, defensively as he sighed heavily at how misunderstood his love for the Wild West was by you and Sam. “Besides…you used to like playing ‘Cowboys’ with me….” He smirked.</p><p>“What? Like….” You mimed finger guns. “Pew! Pew!”</p><p>“No…” He said, rolling his eyes at you. “Like….Sexy Outlaw Bandit meets Beautiful Saloon Girl at Miss Kitty’s Waterin’ Hole.”</p><p>“Oh…Oh, Wow!” You said, taking in this, what felt like, brand new information. “Really?”</p><p>“Damn Straight! You were Miss Kitty’s best girl….and mine.”</p><p>You laughed despite yourself. You could see how it could be fun. “We did a lot of fun sexy stuff, huh?” You wondered out loud.</p><p>“Sweetheart…you have no idea.” He’d said it playfully and flirtatiously and he’d looked and sounded sexy as hell when he did.</p><p>“Yeah….that’s kind of the problem.” You said, immediately kicking yourself as you watched his face change as he realised that he may have inadvertently upset you.</p><p>“No! No. Dean-“</p><p>“Shit! I’m sorry….I shouldn’t have said that. I was just-“</p><p>“Dean, it’s fine. Well, it’s not fine that I don’t remember but it’s fine what you said. I’m feeling much better now that I’m starting to remember things. Even if it is frustratingly slow. You don’t have to worry. I’m OK. You didn’t say anything bad.”</p><p>He looked relieved to hear that as you both started to walk towards the carrousel.</p><p>“So….’Cowboy and Saloon Girl’, huh? Was I ever a ‘Cowgirl’?”</p><p>“Well…yeah….you were kinda but you never played one…in the game…so no….” He said letting out a dirty laugh. “Not like that.”</p><p>“Uh huh.”</p><p>“I meant the positio-“</p><p>“Yeah, I got it.” You said, feeling your cheeks warm.</p><p>“Though we played other games.” He said, pausing the talk to pay the carrousel guy.</p><p>“Let me guess…you were a missionary?” You joked.</p><p>“Ha! No….although there may have been some time spent in ‘Confession’. You forget I have a priests outfit.”</p><p>“Oh no.” You said, smiling at him as you both mounted your horses. “I didn’t forget that you had one. Just that you wore it….like that.”</p><p>He cocked his eyebrow at you before continuing. “And sometimes you were disruptive in my class and had to stay after school…..and….well…there were other things too. But you get the picture.”</p><p>“I imagine there was much to learn. And much to confess.” You said, realising how much fun you were having flirting with him.</p><p>He gasped in loud pretend shock as he reached forward to cover his horse’s ears. “Sssh! You’ll spook the horses.” He said and then broke out that massive grin of his making you laugh before the carrousel even started to turn.</p><p>As the carrousel started you the way Dean spent most of the ride staring at you made you feel slightly self conscious,. He seemed to be enjoying just staring at you, luxuriating in whatever waves of happiness you were giving off and it made you smile even if it made you feel awkward. He seemed to get that though and laughed at you though it was sweet and good natured. To make you feel less weird, he reached out his foot to gently knock against yours. His horse was just by yours and the ride was slow so there was no danger, he was just being a goofball.</p><p>“Are you playing ‘footsie’ with me?” You shouted over the carrousel music.</p><p>“Yeah!” He shouted back. “And on a horse too! That’s how good of a cowboy I am!”</p><p>“I’ll be the judge of how good you are at playin’ cowboy there, pardner.” You shouted back, immediately wondering where that had come from. There was flirting, and – given what he’d told you minutes earlier – there was effectively promising. He looked just as surprised as you felt but as he raised an eyebrow and shot you a flirtatious look back you realised you didn’t regret it at all.</p><p>The ride finished and you wandered around some more, picking up some cups of warm mulled wine, which you clutched between your hands to keep them warm. You sipped as you walked, eventually ending up in a large open fronted tent with a dancefloor and a band playing ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.’</p><p>“They’re not bad.” Dean shouted over the music.</p><p>“You have a better voice than this guy!” You shouted back and he looked embarrassed but also sort of pleased at the compliment.</p><p>By the time you’d finished your mulled wine, they were playing ‘Jingle Bell Rock.’</p><p>“D’you wanna dance?” Dean asked, smiling at you so charmingly you felt like a girl in a movie, at her Prom, being asked to dance by the best looking guy at school.</p><p>“What?! No.” You said, kind of wanting to but also embarrassed.</p><p>“Yeah, you do. I know your faces. You want to….” He said as he took your hand and led you to the dance floor in the middle of the tent.</p><p>“Carrousel rides and dancing, sober, in public? You are one romantic son of a gun Winchester! Who knew?” You said, laughing as he spun you around more gracefully than you’d imagined he would. You didn’t remember dancing with him before.</p><p>“You knew.” He said, pulling you close, so your face was just near his and your body flush against his. He smiled softly at you. “And you will again.”</p><p>And you smiled for the whole rest of the song.</p><p>You stayed at the market until it got dark, the fairy lights and decorative lamp posts lights glowing like magic. You took a deep breath in, letting the ambience and the feel of the place sink deep in to the bones of you. You felt happy and content.</p><p>Dean was smiling at you, looking much the same way.</p><p>“You good?” He asked, softly.</p><p>“I am.” You said, realising just how true that felt in the moment.</p><p>“So….listen, if we’re gonna get to where we’re staying before it gets too late, we should probably leave soon.”</p><p>“Oh, OK.” You said and you both turned to walk back towards the car park. You were half way there when you realised you were holding his hand.</p><p>“Oh!” You said, without meaning to, looking down at his warm, large hand folded sweetly around yours.</p><p>He smiled. “You’ve been doing it most of the day.” He said, laughing slightly. “But you can stop. If you want.”</p><p>“No…I just….I didn’t know I was doing that until just now.” You said, surprised by yourself. “It just must’ve felt like second nature. I did it without thinking.”</p><p>And as you took in how his already wide smile deepened at your words, you realised that there was nothing you could have said just then that could have made him any happier.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was dark when you pulled up and parked so you couldn’t really see where you were.</p><p>“Will you gimme a minute? I just gotta go inside first.” He said, secretively.</p><p>“Sure.” You said, wondering what was going on but letting him go.</p><p>He was back fairly quickly, opening your door for you and getting your bags and then you followed him into to a beautiful, if not fairly rustic looking cabin.</p><p>“Whoa! This is cute.” You said, looking around.</p><p>“You like it?” He asked, sounding hopeful and relieved.</p><p>“What’s not to like?”</p><p>“OK, well I’m going to go put your bags in your room. I’ll take the couch.”</p><p>“Oh. You don’t have to…I mean, I’m sure it’ll be tough but I can keep my hands off you, if that’s wh-”</p><p>He smiled at you, touched at your offer. “I’m sleeping on the couch. That’s not why I brought you here.” He said, resolutely and you watched him make his way up the stairs.</p><p>You walked around, taking in your new surroundings. It was homey with the log panelling, the wooden slatted ceilings and the low, rich lamp light. You looked around, nosily taking in the books on the bookshelf and seeing a stack of letters resting on the top of them. You reached for them and looked at the name on the envelopes.</p><p>“This is Donna’s cabin?” You asked Dean as he came back down, noticing the look of annoyance on his face.</p><p>“Goddammit! I came in first so I could hide any photos.” He said, sounding pissed.</p><p>“Yeah…but you didn’t hide the mail.” You said, putting it back on the shelf.</p><p>“Wow. I am not good at hiding stuff from you.” He said, still looking angry at himself.</p><p>“I’m not really sure why you were trying to?” You said, smiling at him, you hoped with enough warmth for him to ease up on himself.</p><p>“We used to come here. A lot. It’s kind of special. I didn’t want it to feel weird for you that you didn’t remember. I figured when we pulled up, you’d either remember or you wouldn’t. And you didn’t, which is fine but….I didn’t want you to feel bad.”</p><p>You were curious to know more; know why it was so special and about all the times you’d been here before but if he wasn’t telling you and he’d taken such pains to come in first and hide stuff, maybe it was better if you didn’t know. It was probably better to leave it alone for now, you thought.</p><p>“I didn’t even know she had a cabin.” You said, “Well…I mean obviously I did but I didn’t.”</p><p>You couldn’t help but wonder as you looked around, how many times had you been here? What had you done? What beautiful memories had been made here that were lost now.</p><p>“Look….I’m not trying to recreate anything or force anything or…we can leave first thing in the morning. It was just nearer the market than home and I thought it’d be good to stay rather than drive all night.”</p><p>You looked at him. He wasn’t lying, you could tell….but he’d hoped. Hoped you coming here would unlock something in you and bring forth new remembrances. You didn’t blame him but you just felt bad that that wasn’t what had happened. Plus…..there was something else. Some other reason, he wasn’t telling you, but you could tell. Suddenly, trying to figure it all out just felt…exhausting.</p><p>“I could build us a fire?” He said, looking at you with his eyes wide with hope.</p><p>“That sounds great….but it’s been a really long day. Is it OK if I just….hit the hay?” You asked, feeling bad as you saw yet more disappointment in his beautiful green eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, sure….of course.” He said, giving you a smile that you knew was forced. It must be so hard for him, you thought, to be here with you, where you’d clearly been close and happy before, and for it all to be so different. You weren’t lying, it had been a long day and you were feeling tired. But you were also feeling guilty and sad and like you were letting him down.</p><p>You went to make your way upstairs but you stopped along the way to softly kiss him on the cheek.</p><p>“Thank you…for today. It really was the loveliest day.” You said, and he smiled, lightly, if not a little half heartedly, in reply as you made your way upstairs.</p><p>You got to the bedroom and got ready for bed, judging yourself harshly because it was cold and you’d been so absentminded that you had picked completely the wrong nightwear. You should have brought fleece pyjama’s, that was what any sensible person would do, you chided yourself, wondering if the reason you had brought your short, white nightie with the delicate lacy straps was because you’d hoped Dean would see it. No. No, you reasoned, and anyway it didn’t matter now. He was downstairs and you were leaving in the morning. It was cold but you found extra blankets and put them on the bed and the comforter was thick. You wrapped it around you, fairly sure you’d get warm and comfy soon.</p><p>You were tired but you were still shuffling into the comforter and getting cosy when there was a soft knock on the door.</p><p>“Come in.” You said.</p><p>Dean opened the door gently. “Hey…I wouldn’t have knocked but I could see the light was still on. Under the door.”</p><p>“It’s OK.” You said, smiling at him, hating that he so obviously felt uncomfortable.</p><p>“I wanted to show you something.” He said, softly. He walked over to the window, pulling back the thick curtains.</p><p>You got out of bed, pulling your cardigan off the nearby chair and wrapping it around you as you padded over to where he stood.</p><p>You looked out of the window and saw snowflakes gently drifting, brilliant white against the dark night sky, as they fell downwards, past the glass.</p><p>“You said something the other day about how if it snowed it’d feel like you were in a Christmas card…I wanted you to have that.”</p><p>“What? So you made it snow?” You said, awed by both the gesture and how pretty the snow looked as it gracefully fell, catching the moonlight as it did.</p><p>“Well, no…” He laughed. “That’s slightly above my pay grade. I just googled the weather report and saw it might be snowing here, tonight, and so….yeah.”</p><p>“You gave me snow?” You asked, feeling your heart melting even more than he’d already caused it to. “You gave me a Christmas card to be in?”</p><p>“It’s only just started…but by tomorrow it’ll look like a Christmas card. Or it should. If you don’t want to leave straight away.”</p><p>You shook your head. “I want to see the Christmas card.” You said, quietly, still watching as the flakes danced on the breeze. “So…that’s why you brought me here?”</p><p>“Yeah…” He said, and you turned your head to look at him, you saw that as you were watching the snow, he was simply watching you. “Why?”</p><p>“No, I just…I wondered if we here because you were hoping it would jog my memory or we could recreate old times or….something….”</p><p>His brow creased as he thought about what you said. “I think maybe somewhere deep down I was hoping being here might bring back some memories but that’s not why, no. I just wanted you to have snow, if you wanted snow. Whatever you want, if there’s a way for me to give it to you, then that’s what I want to do.”</p><p>You smiled at him, slightly overwhelmed by the love and the sincerity in both the gesture and his voice.</p><p>“My very own George Bailey, huh? You gonna lasso me the moon?” You said, softly knocking his hip gently with yours, in a gesture you hoped was affectionate enough to show him that you were just messing with him. That you didn’t really have words for how moved you were.</p><p>“Every good cowboy has a lasso….and I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna be a good cowboy for you, honey.” He said, hamming it up slightly as he smiled before adding sincerely, “…and honestly…I’ll do whatever it takes it if it makes you smile like that.”</p><p>You couldn’t have removed the smile on your face even if you tried. He really was the sweetest, most romantic man, you thought.</p><p>“So you wanna stick around for a bit tomorrow?” He asked.</p><p>“Yeah…you got me the Christmas card. It would be silly not to enjoy it.”</p><p>“OK…well…” He said, pouting slightly as he shrugged. “Get some rest then. I’ll see you in the morning.”</p><p>He went to leave the room.</p><p>“Dean…you can always stay. I hate the idea of you sleeping on the couch.”</p><p>“What? No…I’m good. Donna’s couch is comfy as hell.” He lied, walking back over to kiss you on the top of your head. “Get some sleep.” He said, gently as he left, shutting the door behind him, leaving you watching as the snow came down.</p><p>.</p><p>The next morning, when you came downstairs, he’d already been up and brought groceries for breakfast. He was frying up bacon as you walked in the kitchen.</p><p>“Mornin’ Princess!” He shouted, over the sizzle of it. “Coffee on the side, just like you like it.”</p><p>You drank your coffee and ate your bacon and pancakes and then got bundled up for some time in the snow.</p><p>He was right. It was like a Christmas card. The snow around Donna’s cabin had fallen thick and lush, crunching as you walked, as the fluffy powder compacted under your boots.</p><p>“Wanna build a snowman?” He asked, looking at you in his thick layers, scarf and hat slowly being covered in a layer of the thick flakes that still fell.</p><p>“OK, Elsa.” You laughed.</p><p>“Actually it’s Anna who sings that.” He said and you rolled your eyes even though you found it cute that he knew that.</p><p>So you built a snowman together. You couldn’t believe that for the second time in a week you had to use the words “Dean, that is not where the carrot goes on a snowman!” Though you were laughing as you said it.</p><p>“If you see two pine cones anywhere, lemme know…it’ll help me ‘realise my vision’.” He said, grinning.</p><p>You were trying to find a twig that would look convincing enough as a pipe when he hit you with a snowball.</p><p>“Are you kidding?” You said, looking at him with disbelief.</p><p>He raised his eyebrows as he shrugged at you in a ‘what you gonna do’ gesture and before long the both of you were in the middle of a snowball fight that had escalated just as quickly as the flour fight in the kitchen had. Even though it was cheesy as hell, there was no one there to see so you gave into it; your competitive natures and laughter taking the wheel as you hurled snowballs and chased each other, eventually though he caught you and held a huge snowball in his hand, outstretched behind him, as his other arm pulled you near.</p><p>“Surrender?” He asked, he was smiling but also clearly taking it very seriously.</p><p>“Never!” You shouted squirming in his hold, laughter rolling under your defiant words.</p><p>“Baby…trust me, you’re gonna wanna surrender.” He said, nodding his head before tilting it slightly to the side, cockily warning you.</p><p>You stared back at him, trying to make your face steelier than your smile would let you. “Do your worst.”</p><p>He brought the snow down and shoved it into your face making you scream as the cold iciness registered against your skin.</p><p>“I can’t believe you just did that!” You shouted, as you wiped the snow off your face and shook your head to dislodge it from your hair, though you weren’t really angry.</p><p>“Hey….I warned you. All’s fair in love and war.” He said, laughing hard as you hard as you tried you best but couldn’t get rid of all the snow, especially the flakes in your hair that fell under the hem of your woollen hat.</p><p>“And which, exactly, is this?” You said, still laughing despite the cold.</p><p>“The snowball fight was definitely warfare.” He said, now trying to help you by brushing the snow off your shoulders with his hands. “So both, I guess.”</p><p>The falling snow wasn’t helping as new thick clusters of lustrous flakes continued to fall on you, flakes landing on your cheeks and eyelashes, one particularly large clump landing on your nose.</p><p>“Oh, for God’s sake…” You said, going slightly cross eyed to look at it.</p><p>You would have wiped it off but before you could, he leaned forward and lay a kiss on the tip of your nose, melting the flake and removing it. He was smiling as he pulled back but only for a second. Then his brow creased and he looked crestfallen.</p><p>“Oh God…I’m sorry, was that not OK?”</p><p>“No. No….I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s fine though….really.” And it was. It was such a sweet, unguarded little gesture, so cute, it had just caught you off guard.</p><p>“Really?” He asked, looking slightly nervous.</p><p>“Yes.” You said, smiling widely at him. “You think Donna has any hot chocolate in those cupboards? I’m freezing after your underhanded snowball victory?”</p><p>He relaxed visibly in the knowledge that he hadn’t overstepped any boundaries and smiled again.</p><p>“’Underhand’? It wasn’t ‘under hand’….it was pretty straight on…it was ‘level hand’…” He said, walking back towards the cabin.</p><p>“Ha ha…” You said, not laughing but saying the words so he knew how lame his joke was. Even though it sort of made you smile anyway.</p><p>.</p><p>As you cradled your steaming cup of hot chocolate in your hands, you stared out of the window. It was so pretty; all white and glistening and soft looking.</p><p>“Hey….do you think Sam would mind if we stayed longer?” You asked, turning to look at him, watching as his smile deepened while you stared.</p><p>“No. I don’t think he’d mind at all. Why? D’you want to stay longer?”</p><p>“I don’t know, it’s so pretty here. It might be nice, no?”</p><p>“Well…we can stay as long as you want. I got stuff to make dinner tonight….just, you know, in case.”</p><p>“What? You knew I’d want to stay?” You laughed. “You planned this?”</p><p>“No.” He said, shaking his head emphatically. “There was no planning. There was maybe hoping. But no planning, I swear.”</p><p>You nodded your head, raising your eyebrows to show that you were sceptical. “What’s for dinner?”</p><p>“Winchester Surprise.”</p><p>“Really?!” You asked, laughing. “I haven’t had that for a long time. Not that I remember anyway. That’s a lot of meat and cheese.”</p><p>“Yes. Yes, it is.” He said, grinning at the very thought.</p><p>“I still remember the first time you made it for me.”*</p><p>“And you didn’t believe me when I told you how good it was.”</p><p>“And I was wrong.” You said, conceding your error.</p><p>He walked over to where you were stood by the window. “I’m really glad you want to stay a while longer.”</p><p>“Only if there’s no more warfare in the snow.” You said, smiling, you were only just beginning to thaw out.</p><p>He smiled. “Deal. I’ll go tell Sam.” With that he disappeared to go make the call, leaving you to gaze out of the window and walk around the cabin.</p><p>As you walked you ran your hand over the grain of the wood; of the table; of the walls. It was very timber heavy this cabin, you thought, smiling.</p><p>As the thought came to you, you got the feeling you’d thought the same thought, here, before. You tried your trick of not chasing the thought but instead seeing if it would come to you.</p><p>A flurry of memories stirred, not one but a few. Almost as if a snow globe in your mind had been shaken.</p><p>You saying ‘It’s very ‘timber heavy’ in here, huh?’ to Dean, as you sat curled up on the couch by the fire. Him saying ‘Timber heavy?’ ‘I knew if I said ‘wood heavy’, you were gonna spend the next 15 minutes making jokes about ‘wood’ and who has the time?’ You laughing. Him turning to you with his lovable pout and saying, ‘Yeah, that does sound like me…’</p><p>You and Dean here in the summer. Coming back from him teaching you how to fish. You saying ‘But I didn’t catch anything!’ and him saying that wasn’t really the point. That you’d spent the afternoon together in the sunshine and that that was excellent fishing.</p><p>Another day with Dean in the yard setting up a barbecue grill. ‘It’s just the two of us. There’s no way we’re gonna get through all this food!’ You said. But he didn’t care. ‘You can pass me beers while I grill us some steaks. We can eat the leftovers for days. Which means we don’t have to even get out of bed to cook. We can just….stay there. Tell me I’m not a genius. Tell me this isn’t a perfect day?’ ‘It is.’ You said. ‘It’s a perfect, perfect day.’</p><p>Running into the house, drenched after getting caught in sudden swell of torrential rain that had come from nowhere. Laughing. Happy. Dean right behind you. ‘Oh honey, we gotta get you out of those wet things before you catch your death!’ He said, as he grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder in a ‘Fireman’s Lift’ as he slapped your ass and carried you up the stairs. ‘Dean, I can walk! Put me down.’ ‘Save your energy. You’re gonna need it.’ He said, his laugh sounding gruff against the giggles that tumbled out of you as you hung over his shoulder, upside down.</p><p>Another day. A colder day this time. The tail end of Winter. ‘We should tell Sam about us.’ You said. ‘I’m pretty sure he already knows.’ ‘Which is why we should tell him.’ Dean smiling as he lifted his hand to stroke the side of your face, like he did. ‘OK, baby. As soon as we get back. I just want this weekend to be about us, though.’ The new thrill of hearing him call you an ‘us’. The excitement of knowing all the secret kissing you’d been doing, always cut short in the bunker, not wanting things to be weird in front of Sam, not knowing fully what ‘you’ were – what was happening between you and Dean, what to call it - so being unable to express it to him yet. The nervous but delicious feeling in your stomach at knowing that tonight was the night.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>This was where that had happened for the first time.</p><p>You wanted to keep up your trick of not pushing, not trying to focus too hard but you couldn’t help it now. You pushed against the memory trying to remember the ‘first time’. But you pushed too hard and the memory popped like a bubble. Gone. Leaving you reeling.</p><p>You had felt, even in those brief snatched snapshots, how special this place had been to you both. How happy you’d been. How in love. Just thinking about it had made your heart feel full and somehow both giddily happy but also calmly at peace, though you didn’t really get how both those things could exist at once within you. You wished there had been more. You wished you knew more. You took a deep breath and tried not to scream in frustration.</p><p>You didn’t tell Dean about the memories, not wanting him to get excited by what felt like only fragments. Scraps.</p><p>A few hours later, you were helping him with dinner. He had on an apron that he’d found and had draped a tea towel over his shoulder as he cut up the onions and sautéed the ground chuck, seasoning and adding ingredients as he went. The radio was on, and as chopped or stirred, he did so to the rhythm of the Classic Rock that the station played. Your ‘helping’ was fairly minimal but not for want of trying. You remembered enough to know that ‘Winchester Surprise’ was a fairly one man operation, he liked to be at the helm, but you handed him things and got him beers and sat on the side to keep him company.</p><p>You had a feeling this wasn’t the first time you’d done that in this kitchen.</p><p>“So…” You said, taking a sip of beer. “We’ve done this. Here. Before?”</p><p>“What? Cooked?”</p><p>“Well….you cooking, me watching.”</p><p>“Me cooking and you helping me by sittin’ there looking pretty and giving me a good reason to slave over a hot stove? Yeah. We’ve done this before.”</p><p>“Did we come here a lot?”</p><p>“Um….yeah…we used to come here every few months or so. You had this thing about us not making Sam feel awkward…didn’t want him to feel like he was living with a couple…wanted it to just be like it always was for him, you know? Like, obviously we were together. And I think he kind of liked it, he was happy for us, but you wanted it to still feel like he was living with his brother and his best friend…more than he was living with people makin’ eyes at each other….who made him feel awkward or whatever…so we’d come here every now and then to be alone. Just the two of us.”</p><p>“For….sexy times?” You asked, tentatively. He laughed at the way your voice raised itself at the end of the question, like you were unsure.</p><p>“Well….yeah…that.” He said, grinning as he cooked. “But also just to do whatever we wanted. Be however we wanted. Just spend time together and enjoy it. Sometimes that was…” He smirked. “…’sexy times’…others it was just talkin’, hangin’ out, eating….whatever.”</p><p>You nodded as you watched him take the cooked beef off the burner and turned his attention grating cheese.</p><p>“Do you have a favourite memory of us being here?” You asked.</p><p>“They’re all pretty good.” He said. There was a quiet moment as he continued to grate and you continued to sip your beer. “The first time we were here was pretty special though.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah? How come?” Wanting to know his take the fleeting glimpse of a memory you’d had earlier.</p><p>“Well….we decided we shouldn’t tell Sam straight away, after that day in the car, y’know? Because we didn’t know what it was and you, especially, were worried that it’d be weird for him…we figured he might have questions and at that point we didn’t know what the answers were, so for a while we just tried to be normal, pretend nothing had changed…except as soon as we were alone we’d end up kissing and saying ‘I love you’ to each other…didn’t seem to be able to help it…” His face lit up with warm happiness at the memory, as he shook his head. “God, we were stupid even trying.” He laughed. “Anyway, we decided to tell Sam we were going on a hunt, didn’t need him to come, I mean…Sam’s smart, he already knew everything that was going on, he just didn’t say until after…and then we came here to try and figure it out. It was then that you and me became…well, ‘you and me’.”</p><p>“So we came here to have the ‘what are we to each other’ conversation and to have sex?” You laughed.</p><p>He stopped grating and thought. He’d pulled the sleeves of his grey Henley up and you couldn’t help but notice how good his forearms looked. Well, all of him, if you were being honest. He took a moment before continuing.</p><p>“I don’t think we needed to have a ‘what are we to each other’ conversation, it was more…we’d said that we loved each other and I think we both felt it…knew what we were….but that kinda made it weird…I think we both just needed a moment…we were so used to feeling how we felt but not saying it, not acting on it. I think we just needed to fully take in that now we could. And because we both wanted to have it for ourselves before we told Sammy, we couldn’t really do that in the bunker. And it felt weird to go from what we’d been for years to…something else…the words just felt wrong…’boyfriend’, ‘girlfriend’, ‘relationship’….they didn’t seem right…we weren’t ‘dating’….that all seemed so….small…so we decided to just fuck all that and figure out what we wanted without using stupid words that didn’t seem to fit…”</p><p>He started grating again.</p><p>“And what did we want?”</p><p>“Just to be together. Spend time together…like we’d always done, I guess, but without having to hold back? To be able to be honest. About how we felt. That we were more than friends or ‘family’. That we loved each other in all of the ways. That we thought about each other, all of the time. That we were in every part of each others’ thoughts and lives. To be able to say that and finally live it. I know I wanted to be able to tell you I loved you without it being weird. Just because it was true and how I felt, what I thought, like….all the goddamn time. And I wanted you to know. How awesome I thought you were, how perfect-“</p><p>“I’m so not perfect.”</p><p>“To me. To me you were, and are, perfect. Even when you’re bein’ a massive pain in the ass. Which you were, and are….often.” He smiled at you. “You’re still perfect. To me.”</p><p>You were quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in.</p><p>“We didn’t come here to see if we were each other’s ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’. We came here to see what it felt like to just be able to be with each other without having to stop ourselves from saying all the things we wanted to say or doing all the things we wanted to do. We’d been doing that for so long. It felt really good to be able to just…tell you what I was thinkin’, y’know? Tell you how I felt? To be able to tell you ‘you look so fuckin’ beautiful right now’ or ‘God, your laugh is the whole reason I want to get up in the mornin’…just so I can try and make you do it, because hearing it makes me feel like everything bad in the world doesn’t matter because it’s the best sound in the world…it’s what happiness sounds like….it’s all the good that the universe has in it just focused down into one little sound and all I wanna do, every day for the rest of my life is just…make you make it…make you happy…’” He caught himself talking so openly and so differently with you than usual and suddenly looked caught off guard and embarrassed, finishing the grating and turning around to search in the cupboard for a big enough dish.</p><p>“…and other stuff…but you get the idea.”</p><p>“What other stuff?” You asked. You spoke softly, hoping it would be enough to reassure him it was OK to continue, hoping to let him know he shouldn’t feel embarrassed, that you wanted to know more.</p><p>“Um…” He said, head still in the cupboard. “Well….I think it was hard too, because once we kissed it was all we wanted to do. God, it was definitely all I wanted to do. But we said we shouldn’t…because it might be weird for Sam…I kinda think that was horse shit…I think we just knew that it was going to lead somewhere else pretty fast…even when we’d just kiss goodnight…” He huffed, but sweetly, “I’d knock on your door after Sam had turned in and we’d end up kissing, just to say ‘goodnight’…” He laughed, “….but…um….it got pretty….heated…..” He turned back around with a big glass dish in his hands and got to work on the counter top, lining it with the cooked meat. “…and I think we knew. That we wanted…more…that we wouldn’t be able to fight it for long. You actually wanted to just…in the bunker…” He smiled warmly at a memory that he was clearly reliving. “…but I didn’t want it to be a secret…didn’t want it to have to be all hushed and creepin’ out of rooms and bullshit like that…so we said we’d wait until we could just…be together properly…y’know? That ended up being here. Think we just needed a moment before that happened. I know I did.”</p><p>“What?!” You said, genuinely surprised. Dean was the sexiest man you’d ever met. More than that, he loved sex and it was something you knew he took pride in being good at. You knew from many drunken conversations and…just from the way he was. The idea of him being…scared? Or nervous? It seemed uncharacteristic and crazy to you.</p><p>“What?” He asked back.</p><p>“You needed a moment?….Look, please just let me help you? I feel bad you cooking and me just sitting on my ass.”</p><p>“I’m good. Really….um, you can set the table, if you want…..and hell yeah, I was nervous. I was terrified.”</p><p>“What….I don’t get it….Me? Yeah…I can see how I’d be nervous and terrified…but you?” You said, getting up and starting to gather stuff so you could set the table.</p><p>“Don’t get the wrong idea…I wasn’t nervous about….I’m all good in that area. It wasn’t freakin’ ‘performance’ anything or….it wasn’t about that stuff…the physical stuff….” He trailed off.</p><p>“What was it about?”</p><p>“You. I knew it would be different with you. I knew it would mean something. Knew I’d feel something…different. Knew once it happened there was a fairly strong possibility I’d never want to do…that…with anyone else. Knew it would ‘seal my fate’, or whatever. That I’d be a goner. Knew there was no going back. Once the…feelings…the ‘love’ or whatever…once we’d done that…I knew everything would change. I’d change. My whole fuckin’ life…would change. I just…needed a moment. Before that happened.”</p><p>You carried the plates and cutlery over to the table, facing away from him, just because it felt too…intense, emotional…real?</p><p>“And did it?” You asked, trying to keep your voice light.</p><p>“Yeah.” He said, just in his normal, low, deep, honest voice. “Yeah. It did.”</p><p>You walked back, towards the cupboard, to get glasses. You weren’t really sure what to say after that.</p><p>“You know…it never changed back.” He said. “I’m not trying to put pressure on you. I’m not trying to push. Or make anything…like it was. But…you should know. I’m yours. Just forever. I just…I can’t help it…I am.”</p><p>You closed the cupboard door. “Dean-“</p><p>“No. You don’t have to say anything back. That’s not what I’m trying to….you just need to know that. I’m not asking you for anything. But there’s no changing it. I can’t change it. It’s just the way it is. The way it’s always gonna be….you should just…I thought you should know that. And it doesn’t matter how you feel…well…it matters, course it does…I’ll never ask you for anything and I’ll never get in the way of anything that makes you happy…of anything you wanted….but….in terms of how I think and what I feel…it’s a bell that can’t be unrung….and I wouldn’t want it to be even if it could.”</p><p>“Dean….” You walked over to him at the counter top, spreading the grated cheese over the cooked ground meat in the dish. You put your hand on his arm and he stopped though he didn’t turn to look at you and you didn’t try and make him. “If I’m anyone’s I’m yours but right now….right now I’m not even mine…and I don’t even know when my memories will come back…if they’ll come back…I don’t feel right asking you to wait….”</p><p>“Don’t.” He said, firmly though not loudly. Now he did turn and look at you, straight and deep in your eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re not asking me for anything. You haven’t. And I’m not waiting. I’m not gonna lie and say that I don’t wish you could remember, that things couldn’t just go back to how they were…and I think you will remember…but I’m not waiting. I’m not sitting it out until you come back to me. That’s not what this is, what any of the time we spend together is. I’m just loving you. The best way I know how. Because it’s all I know how to do. And whether you remember everything tomorrow or you remember nothing at all, ever…that’s all I will ever do. I’m not waiting for your memories to come back. I’m just trying to make you some new ones. Good ones. I’m just trying to make you smile, to laugh, to feel better about this crappy hand that you’ve been dealt. To show you that there’s still good to be found and fun to be had. You and Sam. That is all that matters to me. You’re not asking. I’m not waiting. I miss what we had, sure. But every day I get to be with you. Whatever that looks like. Even if it’s not from as close to you as I used to be. It’s a gift. Don’t ever talk about yourself as if you’re a burden or a ‘job’…not to me. ‘Cause you’re not.” With that he turned to carry on cooking.</p><p>“I just….I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore. Not fully. I want to be with you and I want to make new memories. I want to find a way to be philosophical about it all….I wish I could stop feeling so…like an outsider in my own life….”</p><p>He picked up the fully loaded dish and put it in the oven, setting the timer. Then he walked over to where you were and stood next to you, leaning back against the counter top. “I know who you were. You’ll figure out who you are now. I already love whoever that is, whatever version of you that is. We’ll make new memories. Philosophy is overrated. And…if you’re on the outside…I’ll stand outside with you. You ain’t ever alone. Not as long as I’m around.”</p><p>He put his hand on your shoulder, comfortingly. He squeezed gently as his thumb stroked against your collar bone, through your sweater. You smiled at him. “I do love you, you know. I just don’t know how to…show it…how to be ‘in it’ properly. I can’t just pick up where we left off and it’s hard to start again when I don’t even feel like a proper person anymore. But….You and Sam are everything to me too. And you….even though I don’t know how to make you feel it…and I wish I did because you deserve so much more…but even though I can’t…do it properly. I feel it. I do. It’s…one of the only few things I do know anymore…”  </p><p>“Yeah?” He asked, his voice so soft and hopeful. You lifted your hand to his face, to gently cup his cheek the way he did yours sometimes and let the pad of your thumb gently stroke his cheek bone. Feeling him lean into your hand just slightly, but enough.</p><p>“Yes….and you’re so endlessly patient and sweet to me. And I’m so, so broken right now…” It was only when he lifted his hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks that you realised you were crying.</p><p>“You ain’t broken. And even if you were…It’s not like I’m the picture of togetherness. If you feel broken…we’ll be broken together.”</p><p>“I don’t know how you love me the way you do. I’ve never known anything like it. Never seen anything like it. It’s so selfless and thoughtful and endless.”</p><p>You felt him smile against your palm. “You know how when you’re fighting, on a hunt, and everything is just happening too fast to think about? So it just becomes…instinct…it has to. You don’t think about it, you just do?”</p><p>You nodded, sniffing. Shaking your head slightly, to shake off the heavy fog of emotion that had settled over you.</p><p>“Like that. That’s how I love you. It’s just…I never have to think about it. It’s never an effort. It’s like hunting. Or breathing. It’s just who I am. What I do. And it feels thoughtful because I’m usually thinking about you. It’s not selfless because I’m never putting myself out. I want you to be happy. It makes me happy. So actually…if anything thing. It’s selfish….You are right about it being endless though. That you can be sure of.”</p><p>You laughed through your recently fallen tears. “I don’t remember you being so…in touch with your emotions…”</p><p>He smiled. “You always made it OK for me to just say whatever I was thinkin’.” He shrugged. “When I’m around you, this is what I’m thinking.”</p><p>“You always can. And you should. You know that right?”</p><p>He nodded. “Only if you do too.”</p><p>You smiled at him, taking your hand from his face to wipe your own.</p><p>“What I’m thinking right now though…” He said, “Is that you need to go wash the tears off your face and get ready for the best meal of your life. And I’ll finish setting the table and build us a fire. Sound good?”</p><p>“Yeah.” You said. He leaned forward, kissing you lightly on the forehead.</p><p>“That’s my girl.” He said, smiling with heartfelt tenderness as he watched you leave to go get washed up for dinner.</p><p>.</p><p>When you came back down, the table was set, the fire was flickering in the fireplace and Dean was carrying the dish of Winchester Surprise to the placemat in the centre of the table, steaming between the adorable potholders on his hands as the cheese still bubbled.</p><p>“Mmmm….that smells so good…” You said, honestly, your stomach rumbling as your mouth watered. You sat down, hoping that the conversation would be less intense, not sure you could take much more emotion. He clearly felt the same as, as he dished out and you ate he steered the talk towards lighter topics. You talked about music, it was very important to him that you remembered the exact ranking of his favourite Zeppelin songs and also very important that you reminded him of yours, and then you talked about Sam for a while and how obvious it was that the girl in the coffee shop in town had a crush on him and then about Donna’s taste in men.</p><p>“They are all very…Burt Reynolds….Do you think she watched ‘Smokey and the Bandit’ at a very impressionable age and just…that was it?” You asked, making him laugh so hard he nearly choked.</p><p>“You should see the ‘artwork’ she has in the shed.” He said.</p><p>“First thing tomorrow, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Not tonight. I’m scared I’ll have nightmares.” You said.</p><p>You kept up the light hearted chat, laughing and joking, all through dinner and as he washed and you dried the dishes and cleaned up after dinner. All the way through to when you settled on the couch in front of the fire with a beer each.</p><p>It was so warm and cosy. After the day you’d had and the things you’d talked about, you felt closer to him, emotionally, and you wanted to feel closer to him, physically too, though it still felt unusual and not quite natural.</p><p>“Can I…?” You asked, motioning to the patch of couch cushion right next to him, trailing off as you wondered if you were being unfair to him to ask if you could sit so close.</p><p>He lifted his arm and leaned back, smiling. “Sweetheart, you don’t ever have to ask. I don’t wanna freak you out or make you uncomfortable so I am trying not to push that boundary…but as far as I’m concerned…you should always be as close to me as you can be. It’s where you belong…” He caught himself, uncertainty flickering momentarily across his features. “…if you want to belong there, I mean.”</p><p>You turned slightly, to grab the blanket that was folded along the back of the couch and then settled against him, lifting your legs up onto the seat with your side towards the fire and your back against the side of his strong chest, his arm coming down around you and pulling you to him. You lay the blanket out over the both of you and he shifted slightly so that he moulded himself to you from behind, so he was holding you, both arms around you now, as you relaxed into it, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, your bodies naturally fitting together. It felt safe and comfortable. It felt like home.</p><p>“This is nice.” You said, meaning it. You let out a deep breath of contentment.</p><p>He leaned his head forward against yours, inhaling the smell of your hair and then sighing gently as he exhaled. “Mmmmm. It is.”</p><p>“So…” You said. “Day 6 was the Christmas card. Playing in the snow.”</p><p>“Well…for me it was ‘winning’ in the snow…because of my stunning snowball victory…but yeah…You liking Deanmas, so far?”</p><p>You realised you were smiling so wide, beaming, simply thinking about his question. “I love it.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“So have you got all the other days planned out and stuff?”</p><p>“I have ideas and some plans. Why, baby?”</p><p>“Well, Christmas is as much about giving as it is receiving, right? I reckon Deanmas should be the same. I was wondering if I could have a day? To do something for you and Sam.”</p><p>“You don’t have to do that.”</p><p>“I know. I want to.”</p><p>“If that’s what you want, sure. Did you have something in mind?”</p><p>“Well…no, not yet. But I love you guys so much. And you do so much for me. It’d make me really happy to be able to do something for you.”</p><p>He nuzzled into the crevice of your neck and shoulder. “That’s very sweet.”</p><p>“Well…you don’t know what it is yet. I mean, I don’t either. Wanna help me out….tell me, Dean Winchester, what does Christmas, sorry Deanmas, mean to you?”</p><p>He laughed. “Well….” He took a pause as he thought. “…firstly, it means I’m great at naming stuff.”</p><p>You laughed and nodded.</p><p>“I don’t know. I’m not one for fancy things. I have everything I need. Sammy, you and my Baby. So….just togetherness. As long as we’re all together, that’s what Deanmas means to me.”</p><p>“But we’re together every day, more or less.”</p><p>“Well, I guess every day is Deanmas in my heart, then.” He said, laughing. “I don’t know. It’s the thought, right? Just the thought that someone puts into something…the way they show you they care. I’m sorry…that’s probably not much help.”</p><p>“Don’t apologise for speaking from the heart. I’ll think of something.”</p><p>“OK, baby.”</p><p>It was quiet for a moment as he took a sip from his beer.</p><p>“I had some memories today…earlier.”</p><p>“You did?”</p><p>You nodded. “About being here. They weren’t fully fledged. Just tiny bits and pieces.”</p><p>“Still…that’s awesome. What did you remember?”</p><p>“We went fishing. We had a barbecue. We got caught in a rainstorm.”</p><p>“What?! That’s so great.” He sounded genuinely over the moon as he gently squeezed you in his arms, rocking you ever so slightly. “Why aren’t you happier?”</p><p>“They were just these small little half remembered moments. It wasn’t…enough.”</p><p>“But it was something.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess. I just…..”</p><p>“What, sweetheart?”</p><p>“I kind of remembered, or nearly remembered, our first time here…I almost did and then it just…vanished.”</p><p>He took another sip from his bottle. “That’s how it goes, right? You remember a bit and then it goes? It’ll come to you.”</p><p>You were quiet. You took a big swig of beer.</p><p>“Can I ask you something?” He said, his voice sounding unsure, as if he was apprehensive about how what he was going to say would land.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“You remembered our first kiss, the first time we said that we loved each other, our first date, some of our time together here….but I feel like there’s something your waiting for, waiting to remember…I’ve said before that I think it’ll all come back, but who knows when…is there something…something that’s holding you back? Something that’s making it hard for you to move forward while the memories come back? Are there any gaps in your memory that I could maybe help you with? I’m sorry, if that’s not an OK question to ask.”</p><p>“No, it’s fine.” You said, reaching up your hand to stroke gently against the back of his head so he knew that you meant it. “Um….yeah, I guess….I mean…I just, I don’t remember my side of it. Like, when we were talking in the kitchen it was good to know what you thought and what you remembered from when we were getting together but…I have no idea what I felt, what I thought. And just…how it was…first kiss, first ‘I love you’ aside…we were together for what, a year and a half almost, what was that like…just the day to day…the hunting….our routine…I wish I remembered how it felt to figure out all that stuff, to live it…what we did on our anniversary…what it was like to tell Sam about us….it’s so hard to know there was all this stuff that must’ve been so amazing…just falling in love and getting to be with you…I’m sure there were butterflies and, I don’t know…just really good feelings and moments…I’m not saying they won’t come back and I’m not saying there won’t be new ones but it’s just hard for me to just have all of that be just…gone. For right now at least.”</p><p>You felt his deep sigh against your back. “I can only imagine. And I’m sorry. When I think about how much that time and those memories mean to me….yeah, I get it. I hate that this happened to you.”</p><p>“I know you do. And it happened to ‘us’. I know this hasn’t exactly been a picnic for you either.”</p><p>“Well, yeah. Can I try and shed some light on some of that stuff…or would that not help?” He asked. You took a moment to feel how touched you were by how sweet and patient he was.</p><p>“You can try. I love that you want to try.”</p><p>“OK.” He said, resolutely as he thought about what you had said. “Um…Well….You told me there were butterflies. I had them too-“</p><p>“You did?” You couldn’t imagine Dean with butterflies in his stomach. Certainly not over…well, just you.</p><p>“Yeah! Big time….and you said you did too.  When we first got together you said that it felt almost too much at times but that it was good. That it felt…good. You said it was strange at first that you could just kiss me or hold me or tell me you loved me whenever you wanted. Which I got because I felt the same. But that went, pretty quick. And then it was just like…’oh man, I get to do this…just whenever I want’. And every time you did any of those things…butterflies. They got less intense as we got used to it but they were still always there. For the both of us, I think. And when we told Sam he rolled his eyes, because he already figured it out but he was cool with it, happy even. He told me he was happy for me and that he could see how much I loved you and that although I got the better end of the deal than you did, which I completely agree with, by the way, that he thought we were good together and he couldn’t be happier that it was you…that you were the one. He gave you a hug and asked you if you knew what you were getting yourself into…you said no….but that you were excited to find out…then we just…got pizza and watched ‘Ghostbusters’ and it wasn’t weird at all. We had a routine but to be honest it wasn’t that different from our usual routine except there was more…um kissing and…stuff…um…hunting…that took a moment…you’re great, you know I think that but I found it hard. I just wanted to protect you so bad. Couldn’t bear the idea of anything happening to you. You had no time for that at all. So there was that. Um…we were on a hunt over our anniversary and you thought I forgot…and you weren’t pissy about it at all…which was cute…and after we salted and burned I told you I had to go get something from Sam’s motel room and I came back in a suit…a fancy one, a new one, not a Fed suit…and I’d brought you a dress from home, that red one with the straps? And I brought you flowers and told you to put it on and then I took you for dinner in the fanciest restaurant in town…which wasn’t that fancy because we were in this small little place in the middle of nowhere and everyone looked at us like we were nuts and neither of us gave a single shit…and then we drove out and looked at the stars from Baby’s hood and I told you it was the best year of my whole life, bein’ with you and you said you felt the same and then we realised it was freezing cold and so we got in the back seat and…yeah…”</p><p>It wasn’t the same, just hearing about it, but as you sat in his arms, both of you under the blanket, feeling the comforting heat as it rolled out from the fire, in the low lamp light, it was still pretty good.</p><p>“I’ve never been so happy. It felt like you felt the same. And you told me that too. You said it was more than you ever imagined, more than you ever hoped for, more than you felt you deserved. Which is crazy because you deserve every good thing in the whole goddamn world. But that’s what you said.”</p><p>“We sound pretty perfect. It sounds pretty perfect. Did we ever fight?”</p><p>“Sure. Not often but there were a couple of barn stormers. One time you got really pissed at me for being ‘over protective’ during a hunt. You said ‘Just because I love you doesn’t mean I won’t bitch slap the fuck out of you if you ever get in the way of my kill again’ which to be honest was just really hot. But, man, were you mad. Um…and then there was the time we were in a bar and this guy was hitting on you and I did not like that, fuckin’ asshole, and…well…I said you should have told him to go fuck himself but you said why be rude when there was no way anything was ever gonna happen and you asked me why I was so mad and I said I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you and you said that it didn’t matter because I got to take you home and ‘let him look’…you said I was being jealous…but like…people used to hit on you all the time and I never said anything it was just that guy…motherfucker…and you weren’t that much better…this one time this waitress kept tryin’ to flirt with me and I was just bein’ polite but you got so bored of her that you just straddled me right at the table and kissed me, like really fuckin’ went for it, and then you just got off me, smiled at her and carried on talking to Sam who was just….” He laughed, “…he was just sat there open mouthed like a guppy. We had a kind of fight after that but only because I said you were jealous, just like I was about the guy in the bar and you said you weren’t jealous and it wasn’t the same…but it totally was the same.”</p><p>“It does sound like it was the same.” You admitted.</p><p>“Thank you. If we could go back in time and tell you of last year that it would have saved a whole argument…although….”</p><p>“Let me guess…make up sex in Baby’s back seat.”</p><p>You turned to look at him and the devilish, cocky look on his face. “Nearly…the bathroom of the bar we went to after.”</p><p>“The bathroom! Wow…I was classy, huh?” You laughed.</p><p>“You couldn’t help it. I swept you off your feet…and into the stall. And I know it doesn’t sound it but…you weren’t ‘unclassy’. We were just…havin’ fun…..Sam did just go back to the Motel without us though.”</p><p>“Oh God. Poor Sam.”</p><p>“He survived.”</p><p>“Our fights don’t sound that bad…I mean…all couples fight…and it sounds like we sure knew how to make up after.”</p><p>He laughed. “That we did.” He took a sip of beer. “We’re both fiery. But we could never stay mad at each other.”</p><p>He looked at you, his flirtatious playful smile softening into a sweeter one. “We were just really in love.”</p><p>“Sounds like it.” You said. “I mean, I guess it could be worse, right? I mean, it sounds like we did a good job of falling in love the first time. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad doing it all over again. I mean who gets a chance to fall in love with the same person twice? We could have that.”</p><p>“You could have that.”</p><p>“What d’you mean?”</p><p>“You could fall in love with me twice. If I was so lucky as to have you fall for me again, that is. But me…man, I started falling for you then and….I just never stopped. I can’t fall for you again because…I’m still falling for you from the first time…every day….it’s just….falling deeper…”</p><p>He leaned forward and kissed you softly on the cheek feeling the smile that had spread across your face, under his lips.</p><p>“Is any of this helping?” He asked.</p><p>“Yeah, it kind of is. It’s not the same as living it first hand…but it is helping.”</p><p>“Is there anything else? Anything you’re wondering about. Any stories I can tell. It’s kinda nice being able to tell them to you.”</p><p>You took a big gulp of beer and thought. “Well…yeah….maybe….there is one thing I’ve been wondering about…but I don’t know if it’s weird….”</p><p>“You can ask me anything.”</p><p>“I just…I know about the first kiss and a number of other first…but I don’t know about the first time. Our first time.”</p><p>“Our first time doing what? Oh……”</p><p>“It’s weird….I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have asked…it’s just…that whole thing…not just the first time…all the times, I guess…that’s just a whole side of us that I haven’t remembered and I can’t help but be intrigued, I mean…I  remembered a few….moments, the other day in the kitchen when we were making cookies but…you know what, forget it, it’s so weird and awkward and I’m sorr-“</p><p>“No. No…it’s fine. It’s not weird. I just…didn’t know if you’d want to talk about it. Properly, I mean. But we can. I don’t feel weird if you don’t feel weird….um…OK…well, we were awesome at sex. Like…awesome.”</p><p>“Yeah?” You laughed, a little nervously.</p><p>“Oh. Yeah. Like…we just worked together, y’know? And sometimes it was fun and…kinda like we were playing, almost…”</p><p>“Like, with the cowboy thing?”</p><p>“Exactly. And other times it was more….er….intense. Hotter? More…” You heard him swallow, thickly. “Dirty? Just….using our bodies, in all the ways we could think of, to make each other feel good. And then finding ways to make it even better. Less ‘fun’ more…um…’physical’, I guess?”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“And other times it was sweeter…kinda romantic. Loving, I guess? Tender? Emotional? I don’t know…something like that…but the first time…the first time…was slower. I don’t think either one of us could believe we got to do that. And we just wanted to explore each other, I suppose, enjoy each other. Find out all the new ways we could be with each other, make the other feel good. Finally show each other how we felt…without words. I remember just…the feelings…what it was like to touch you, the way it felt to get to touch you…all over. And God, it was so…hot…so fucking hot…seeing your face when I made you…feel good. Hearing what you sounded like when you lost control. Hearing you say my name like that. Getting to kiss you…everywhere…finally. Using my hands, using my mouth. Tasting you. God, you taste good.”</p><p>You heard him take a breath, but there was the lowest, quietest, moaning sigh under it. You tried not to squirm in his arms but it was difficult. You could feel his words, feel them deep inside of you, as his low, deep voice explained.  </p><p>“And…wow…feeling you touching me. Before it was kind of all about…erm, the main staging area? But you…when you ran your hands over my body, or kissed me over it…anywhere, everywhere felt…it was electric…it had never been like that before…and it had been good before but…and then when you were…um…there….fuck…it was….I don’t know if ‘incredible’ cuts it but…and your mouth…ooof…sorry…um, we both seemed to know what we were doing…and we both seemed to really just…enjoy it….it was kinda the best of all the worlds…it was fun because the exploring part of it was fun…I made a noise you thought was hot and then you kept trying to find ways to make me make it…” He let out a sweet laugh of fond remembrance. “But it was hot too, because we’d been wanting each other for so fuckin’ long and we’d been trying to fight it but it was just getting so …fuck…and all the kissing in the bunker and the back seat had not helped so it was fairly intense too…but also just…we just loved each other so much…so it really did feel like ‘making love’…I know you hate that expression but it really did. And when we were….doing that…I swear to God, feeling…you…getting to be with you like that…after we’d, um…done that once, I knew how good it was, although I was still always taken aback by it…but that first time…fuck…it blew my mind, how good it was, how it felt to be inside you, to move with you like that, to make you come, to watch you, to feel you, to hear you…” He made a noise like words were failing him.</p><p>Maybe that was for the best because hearing him say all that, his voice low and quiet and deep against your ear as you leaned back against his strong, solid body, had made you feel like you wanted to turn around and just kiss him and find out what it felt like for yourself.</p><p>But also…it had made you feel unutterably sad too. When he spoke about what it was like, how it was good afterwards but never quite like that first time. It hurt to know that he had that shared memory, that moment of intimacy when you were as close as two people could be, and that you just….didn’t. And that even if you did it again, your first experience of him like that wouldn’t be his first experience of you. His first time with you was then. You wished it didn’t bother you because everything he had said had made you want to reach out, to touch him and just give in to how much you wanted him, how much you had always wanted him…and there was no getting around it or changing it, it was what it was and you’d just have to accept it. But right now you didn’t know how to do that. Because right now it hurt. Horny and sad, you thought, that was quite an overwhelming double whammy of emotion.</p><p>He leaned forward and slowly, lightly, kissed you against your neck, his lips parting against your skin as he whispered, “God, Y/N…” You could feel the change in his breathing against your neck.</p><p>He kissed you again. Deeper. Harder. Opening his mouth as his body shifted behind you so his hands could move against you and you felt his hardness against your back.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” You said, getting up off the couch. “Dean, I’m so sorry. I can’t. I just…I can’t. I should never have asked you and I’m just…I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p>“No. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…”</p><p>“No. Please…you didn’t do anything wrong. I just…I can’t do this right now. It’s late and I feel like I just need to go to bed. I’m sorry. Please don’t feel bad, you haven’t done anything wrong. I asked you and I made you talk about it whilst we were lying here together like that and it was me, OK? And I know I fucked up but I can’t handle this right now.”</p><p>You turned to go upstairs, desperate to just…be away from the situation. The situation you had created. He stood up and reached for your arm.</p><p>“Y/N, I’m sorry. Please don’t go. Not like this. Will you just talk to me? Please.”</p><p>“Please let me go. I just…I just really, really need to go to bed right now. I’m sorry.” You said, and you really were but you knew you had to leave now. All the emotion of the day was hitting you and you really didn’t want to cry in front of him for the second time in 24 hours. He let go of your arm and you hurried towards the stairs, unable to look at him because you already knew that the look on his face would be one of deep hurt. The deepest hurt on his beautiful face. Hurt that you had caused.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You felt awful as you got in to bed, turning the light off as soon as you could, knowing you couldn’t take a knock on the door right now. He was so lovely. And perfect. You shouldn’t have asked him those questions. Today had been far too much.</p><p>You tried to just forget, tried to blank your mind. That didn’t work. Tried to push against memories and drag them into the light. That didn’t work either. You despaired. You tried to not descend into self pity but it was hard. You’d had something people only dream about – that you had dreamed about – and so much of that had just been taken from you. You could fall in love with him again, hell, you were already in love with him, and you could make new memories but some part of you was still stuck on the past. You wished your rational mind could marshal your emotional side, tell it to stop over thinking, tell it to stop looking backwards when there was so much good right here in your present. But you felt how you felt and you doubted you were going to be able to change that right now, at the current moment, in the middle of the night, wrapped in the thick comforter of Donna’s bed.</p><p>The roiling tides of the day’s emotions eventually took over and pulled you into the undertow of a fitful sleep.</p><p>Then the dreams came.</p><p>One where you were in a room that was filling with water, but you were shackled to a thick, heavy, immovable chain attached to the floor. You could see Dean through a window, kicking at the glass, shouting at you; ‘Baby, Let go!’ You looked down and saw that rather than being clasped around your wrist as you had first thought, that the chain keeping you tied as the surface level of the black, icy water rose, the end of the chain was actually in your hand, your grip around it so tight that your skin had turned pale and the tension in your fingers was agonising, as your nails dug into your flesh around the rusty metal.</p><p>‘I can’t let go! I can’t make my hand let go!’ You shouted at Dean through the glass, your voice shot through with alarm, the water stealing your words as it filled your mouth and lungs. You could just make out his voice, reverberating with sheer palpable panic. ‘I can’t save you, if you don’t let go! Just stop holding on! Y/N…for fuck’s sake, let me save you!! Please!’</p><p>You felt the cold water, the pressure of it, the way you struggled and thrashed against it but more than anything you felt the overwhelming emotion of the dream; the terror and frustration that you couldn’t make yourself let go.</p><p>You stirred, a flicker of consciousness in your turbulent sleep, ‘Well, I wonder what that means’ some voice within you sarcastically thought, you didn’t have time to even wonder at how even your half awake internal monologue was a smart ass though, because you were suddenly in the middle of another dream scenario; everything had changed, as dreams were wont to do, but that feeling of confusion and fear had followed you here.</p><p>You were in the same dark warehouse you had been in on the shifter case in Cedar Rapids, the one where you’d taken the hit that had stolen your memories. Sam was on your left and Dean on your right. All three of you had your guns, loaded with silver bullets, just as they had been, raised and ready. It was quiet and still. And then…</p><p>Then suddenly a legion of monsters started filling the room. The shifter was there, wearing the form of the victim doctor as it had been that night, but so were other things; like a master cut of other creatures from other hunts. The werewolves from Tallahassee. Various vamps you’d fought and killed. Witches, ghouls, wraiths, ghosts…it was like a ‘Greatest Hits’ of things that between the three of you, you’d chased, fought and ganked. Some of which you had forgotten about until that very moment. You felt the adrenaline in you, pumping hard, but the fear was stronger than it usually was; it wouldn’t be sublimated by the ‘fight or flight’ in you. The monsters surged and you watched as Sam ran towards a demon, disappearing as he did so, like a visual effect in a movie. ‘What the fuck?’ you thought, turning to look at Dean as he was overcome by the swarm who were holding him down, you went to run and go help him but the shifter ran and grabbed you, his strength over powering as he pinned you to the cold, damp floor. ‘Dean!’ You screamed as you watched him disappear from view under a teaming horde of evil creatures. You struggled against the shifters hold but you couldn’t move. Your body wouldn’t do as you told it. ‘Please!’ You begged the shifter. ‘Please!’ but he just stared at you and then turned his head. When you followed his gaze, you watched, your blood running colder than ice and the taste of bile vividly acrid in your mouth as some undead zombie looking son of a bitch bit down on the flesh of Dean’s neck in front of your eyes.</p><p>‘Dean!’ You screamed. It was all panic and terror; lucid and vivid and visceral. Someone was screaming Dean’s name over and over again. The realisation dawned that it was you.</p><p>Suddenly you were awake, covered in a thick, cold layer of sweat and gasping for breath, your heart pounding with a disconcerting power against your chest. Fuck…it was a dream…it was just a dream.</p><p>The silence of the room was violently broken by the sound of Dean throwing open the bedroom door with a force that, by rights, should have taken it clean off its hinges.</p><p>“Y/N?” He shouted, his gruff voice loud, the concern in it flooded with fear.</p><p>You barely had time to turn the light on and force yourself up out of bed to try and shake off the death grip of your nightmare before he was instantly by your side, his hands on you, one steadying you on your arm, the other by the side of your face, tilting your tear stained face up towards him as he stooped, leaning in, trying to see for himself if you were OK.</p><p>“What happened? Talk to me! What happened? You OK?” He looked frantic, his face all worry as his eyes searched over you, looking for any sign of actual harm.</p><p>You nodded but it wasn’t convincing as you shook with tears still streaking your cheeks.</p><p>He pulled you into his arms, wrapping them around you, pulling your head into his chest, so close you could hear how the adrenaline had made his heart race. He stroked your hair as he kissed the top of your head and you felt something inside you break.</p><p>Something that had been holding inside of it everything you’d been trying to hold back all of these months; your sadness and frustration, confusion and fear all of which now swelled inside of you, with a palpable fury.</p><p>“Baby, what happened?” He repeated, but so softly, with such tenderness, into your ear.</p><p>“Just…” You said, your voice hoarse and broken, as you shook your head and tried to steady your breathing, “…a nightmare.” You were still crying and shaking.</p><p>He held you so tight. So close. So safe. Showering you with soft kisses against the top of your head.</p><p>“S’alright. Sweetheart, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m right here.” He said as his hands ran over you as you stood in his embrace and he continued to kiss you across your crown and brow, so lovingly.</p><p>“I’m sorry. It was just a bad dream…I didn’t mean to be such a drama qu-“</p><p>“Hey.” He said, fierce enough to grab you out of your spiral. “Don’t fucking apologise to me, alright? As long as you’re OK, everything is fine. And you are. OK. I’ve got you” He held you even tighter, so tight that you could feel him keeping you safe from anything that might ever seek to hurt you or harm you. “I’m here. Sweetheart, I won’t let anything hurt you.” And you knew he wouldn’t.</p><p>As you felt yourself melt against the strong solidity of him you felt the blind panic of your fear slowly but tangibly evaporating from within you. You felt safe. Safe and protected and loved.</p><p>You tilted your head to look up at him and he pulled his head back, ever so slightly, not letting go of your body but wanting to look at you.</p><p>The excitement and emotion had made you both breathe fast and deep against each other. And suddenly you were aware that you were stood there in your thin white nightie, short with barely anything to it, held up by the thinnest of lacy straps, one on each shoulder against your warm bare skin. And he, he was just wearing his black T-shirt over boxers, his hair still slightly fluffy and mussed from sleep. His eyes seemed to be roaming across your face, taking all of it in and when they rested on yours they seemed to be searching. For what? Perhaps things that he could only read in your eyes and couldn’t hear in your words.</p><p>“You sure you alright?” He asked, quiet and soft, his brow still creased with worry.</p><p>You shook your head, slowly. “No.”</p><p>You felt close to him. Connected. The way he was always there, to love you and keep every bad thing away from you. And you were physically so close right now as you stood there in his arms. All you wanted was to be even closer. You waited for the barrage of thoughts to come, the questions about what it all meant and where it could go and all that had happened. But nothing came. It just felt quiet and still. It was like being in the eye of a storm. Even the usually roiling current of your usually ever present thoughts was calmed. There was nothing but the stillness.</p><p>And his strong, warm body around and against yours.</p><p>You felt the deep breath he dragged down into his chest making it heave against yours before he dipped his head, his eyes closing to lean his forehead against yours.</p><p>“Fuck.” He breathed out. “I was so worried-“</p><p>You didn’t know where it came from, for once you weren’t thinking, you just moved your head and kissed him. It was just…the only thing in the world you wanted to do. The only thing it made any sense to do in that moment. And gently, so gently, he kissed you back with his soft full lips.</p><p>Your arms rose up to drape around his neck, one hand running through the thick velvet feel of his hair.</p><p>He kissed against your lips again and again and then his lips parted and you felt his tongue, softly grazing your lips and then lightly moving against your tongue. It was tentative at first but then…then suddenly as if some dam that had been holding things back for him too broke and everything, everything, burst force at once. What had been soft and gentle was suddenly raw, unleashed, untampered emotion. His lips and tongue moving powerfully as his hands moved with desperate urgency and formidable strength against your back and then one of them finding itself twisting into your hair, against the back of your head.</p><p>Whatever it was that had broken forth between you was too big to be contained or withstood. It was the rush of a formidable current. A storm. A tsunami. Natural but with so much power in it that it felt like devastating awe and over powering force, so huge yet now concentrated down into the way your bodies moved against each other.</p><p>He pushed you back against the wall, behind you, his hands pushing against your body as if to force himself to believe you were there and real, that this was happening. You felt it, as he kissed hungrily against your top lip and then your bottom lip, almost crushing, almost bruising – almost but not. The sound of hot, fevered breathing filling the silence, as his body pushed you into the wall. All of his body, against all of yours.</p><p>He pulled back, just the slightest fraction, his open mouth against yours, his plump full lower lip between yours as you both struggled to breathe. For a moment the frenetic energy calmed, though his whole body seemed to heave with the force of trying to withstand the flow of it.</p><p>You opened your eyes, looking up into his. They were scanning over your face and deep into your eyes. He looked unmoored, unsure. He looked desperate and lost. He looked like he was on fire and the only thing that would keep the flames from devouring him was you.</p><p>“I…I…” He tried to force anything about what was happening between you into something communicable by words, but he was failing. You got that. It was impossible. But as you looked into his eyes, you realised that you didn’t need words right now. They wouldn’t work. It couldn’t be explained by that sort of language. You knew, just by looking at him, you knew.</p><p>That he needed you. That he’d been fighting against himself for months with how much he needed you, craved you, the way, to him, you were like water after days in a merciless desert. That he didn’t want to do anything that hurt you or pushed you or would leave you with regret – and he hadn’t – holding his own needs and desires in the tightest choke hold while he tended with care to what you needed. But they were still there, he could hold them down, keep them in check, but they were powerful and he couldn’t hold them back forever. It was killing him trying to. You could see him trying to wrestle them into submission. The way his body wracked, the way it wanted to move, the tension in it, his hardness of him against your hip, his effortful breaths and the broken look of intensity all over his face all gave away the costly battle raging within him. The only thing stronger than the way he wanted you, the way he needed you  - was the way he loved you and could never bring himself to do anything that might hurt you.</p><p>You let your hand stroke against his skin, one running up over the nape of his neck , the other across his back where it found itself under his t shirt. He looked at you from under eyelids hooded with the exertion of trying to hold back his desire, mouth still open and panting against yours.</p><p>‘I am barely holding on.’ came the unsaid words amongst the deep, lust blown green, as he swallowed hard before licking his lips, ‘I won’t be able to hold back if you keep doing that’ they continued to silently scream.</p><p>You looked at him, aware that your breathing was erratic and forceful too, ‘So don’t’ the look you gave him said, as you bit down, hard enough to be felt, on his lower lip the way you had wanted to since the very first moment you’d met.</p><p>He let out a low but loud growl that sounded like it came from the deepest, most animal part of him. And he let go. The torrent was unleashed. Hot and hungry. Wild and uncontrollable. The energy exploded like an A bomb of sudden heat and action. You felt his desperate hands, insatiable and reaching as they lifted you, your legs wrapping like vines around him as he spun you and launched you both onto the bed.</p><p>It was a tornado of grabbing and feeling and kissing and biting; of hands and lips and soft skin over hard bone, thick blood and tender, yielding flesh. Clothes yanked and divested without it even registering.</p><p>Sighs and moans. Growls and groaning. Hot, hungry, breaths being dragged down into lungs.</p><p>The sight of him naked and hard. The image you’d imagined for years upon years, finally there before your eyes. Better. So much better. Clear, soft, warm skin over strong taut muscles. The tattoo on his firm, broad chest. The long, heavy, thickness of his straining erection. The noise he made when you took him in your hand; a sound that went from a low roar dragged from the depths of him to a higher breathlessness, shallower and nearer his surface. His face as his mouth hung open, like he was screaming but he wasn’t. The way his face shifted from overwhelming pleasure, lost of waves of bliss, to the tight contortion of what looked almost like pain…almost…as he bit down on his lip. The taste of him, salty and warm, against your tongue. The soft velvety skin over the hardness of him under your lips and hands. The feel of his hands stroking your scalp between the strands of your hair as they twisted in his fingers, not pushing down, just moving with reverence, love and desire until they pulled, gently guiding your lips back up to him.</p><p>The tension is his hands as they moved, hard over your breasts, your hips, the globes of your ass and then through the slick folds of you. The fullness as his fingers worked their way into you, the way something in you unlocked as he crooked them finding some deep place inside of you that he clearly knew by heart though you weren’t sure you’d ever known it to be found before. It was his, he’d found it and claimed it and he was claiming it again.</p><p>His tight moving muscles under your grasping hands, the feel of his skin under your nails, scraping the sweat off of him as they left angry red lines down his back.</p><p>His mouth…everywhere. The feel of his lips and his tongue; hot, searching, unquenchable in their thirst for you, as they worked, warm and wet over your nipples and down your body. His thick hair between your splaying fingers.</p><p>His mouth on you, his head between your legs, ravenous, kissing you there with an enthusiasm born of the neediest of desperate hungers. Licking. Sucking. Kissing. Lapping. Practically drinking; as the air filled with sounds of bodies and wetness and sounds that came from the both of you that sounded feral and savage. The reluctance but ultimate yield of him as you pulled him up to kiss him passionately, needing him inside you more than you’d ever needed anything ever before in your life.</p><p>The locked connection between the two of you as he gazed into your eyes, his body still for a moment. The way he kissed, deeply and open mouthed against you neck before whispering gruff and broken into your ear.</p><p>“I missed you so much…..God, so fuckin’ much.”</p><p>The last look between you as he lined himself up asking wordlessly if you were sure and reading your hands against him, pulling him into you, the look you gave him that screamed ‘yes’ as you bit your lip before kissing him.</p><p>The look on his face and the rolling sound of his ecstasy as he pushed. The fullness and the stretch. The feeling of wholeness, of closeness, of something that had been hungry forever finally being fed. The way it felt as he moved, slow at first, and how it felt like falling and drifting on waves of something so luxuriously delicious, something ineffable as you felt the surging emotion and closeness to him, yet also so physical and real as your body felt the pleasure within it tighten and build.</p><p>The way it felt when his hands held your arms against the mattress, not painful but firm as he kissed you. The weight of his solid body over yours, against the length of you.</p><p>When his deep voice, panted out “You’re so fucking beautiful.” against the shell of your ear.</p><p>The look on his face when he heard the way you called out his name, like he couldn’t take the reaction that he felt within him, like it was want and joy and love all rushing at once, rendering him weak with the power of it.</p><p>The way he used his strength to move you, always mindful not to hurt, not to take it too far but also, also wanting to feel all of you, see you from every angle, feel you under his touch again, to turn you over and over, to try and convince himself you were here and his still. Making you feel adored and cherished with each tender stroke or forceful turn.</p><p>The way he said your name again and again as if it was something more than just a word; a plea, a prayer, an exclamation, a celebration. But he said it that deep, sexy voice of his, unaware that he was even calling it out; saying it like it was just an exhalation, just a part of how he breathed now.</p><p>And you could feel too, frozen, cold, rigid parts of you melting, breaking down, unlocking like mechanical locks on vault doors. Slivers and chunks of times your bodies had moved like this before. Different places, different moods, different styles, different positions – but always him; always you and him. You couldn’t focus on them now, but you felt them somewhere in the distance, memories falling into place as he kept you there with him now, in the feel of his tight hand on your breast or your hip, in the urgent kiss interrupted by the way he couldn’t help but moan against your mouth, the mounting pressure, the rhythm that was building, with urgency, towards its summit.</p><p>The way he knew your body so well that even through kisses and touches he knew, knew how to tell you he loved you, knew how to make you feel good and then even better, knew when you were close and he was there, with you, in it, but also he was watching you and moving to push you further into the euphoric oblivion that he knew was inevitably close.</p><p>“I love you.” He whispered, so softly. He kissed you high on your neck, behind your ear and down. His body kept up its beautiful rolling rhythm against yours as one hand snaked down to touch you and the other held one arm down, above your head, grounding you as you started to come apart, letting your other hand move against his back, pulling at him, knowing he was already as close as anyone could ever be to you, but somehow needing him nearer still.</p><p>“Let go. Ohhhhh…..You feel so good. Even better than I remembered. I’m so close. I can feel how close you are. Come with me. I really need to feel you come for me, baby. Y/N. Fuck. Oh God, Y/N….”</p><p>And then you felt it, the wave that flooded through you and seemingly outwards, with only you and Dean existing, or so at seemed, in the centre of the feeling; so good and so powerful. Like white heat and white noise. Like something that you couldn’t think about of control, all you could doo was let it wash over you. To surrender to its power. It tore through you, leaving you breathless and reeling as he came too, just moments after you.</p><p>You both lay there, still, spent and slowly, slowly, coming back down from the high that had blocked out everything in existence but each other. Your bodies wrapped around each other, wracked and heaving, sweaty and raw with sensitivity as aftershocks rippled through you both. You ran your hands over his arms and back, loving the solid feel of him over you and under your finger tips as he showered you with soft sweet kisses, clearly the fact that he could do that now not wasted on him, and you felt the way he was enjoying this new level of affection between you.</p><p>Eventually, he moved, pulling out of you and rolling over onto the bed beside you. He was still panting deeply, as he lay back against the pillows, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he reached over and pulled you into him, so your head could rest against his chest.</p><p>“Wow.” He said, and you craned your head up to see him smiling widely down at you. It was only then you realised how wide you were smiling back. “Are you OK?”</p><p>“Am I OK?” You laughed.</p><p>“Yeah.” He said, laughing back, though slightly unsure as he searched your features for the answer to his question.</p><p>“Yeah…I’m pretty good.” You said, looking up at him through your lashes. “You?”</p><p>“Me? I’m fuckin’ awesome.” You both laughed loudly at how very ‘Dean’ a response that was, though he spoke again once you’d stopped. “Don’t think I’ve ever been better.” He said, his voice calm and earnest. “I just….I  hope it wasn’t too much, too soon…or that it isn’t gonna make you feel weird…” You saw the start of real concern start to cloud his face.</p><p>“Stop.” You said, kindly but firmly. “I feel better than I have in a long time. A really long time. I’m good, I’m really, really good. Don’t worry, OK?”</p><p>He smiled at you, and squeezed you in his arms, kissing you on the top of your head. “OK, sweetheart. As long as you’re sure.”</p><p>You lay there, naked against him as he ran his fingers lovingly against the skin of your arm, and weirdly, whether it was the new found intimacy or muscle memory from the past, it felt totally natural. And peaceful, as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.</p><p>The next morning, you woke before him, opening your eyes and seeing him there next to you, against the pillow. He looked tranquil and content. You found yourself smiling as you took in the adorable freckles that dusted his cheeks and nose and those thick full lashes of his as they rested on his closed eyelids. His lips pouted even as he slept somehow and he looked…cute. You were so used to seeing big, strong, protective hunter Dean - bold, manly and sexy. It undid you slightly to see him now, his body warm and curled towards yours, boyish good looks made even more boyish by the relaxed sweetness of him in repose. God, you loved him. You really loved him.</p><p>You loved the side of him that he showed the world; sexy, flirty, playful or badass hunter strong and heroic. You also loved the side of him that gave and loved and protected. But this side; the side of him that was still the sweetest of boys with the biggest of hearts; who loved hard and deserved to be loved back even harder, though he never expected it. This was the side that was only for you and Sam to see. And that made it even more special.</p><p>You took a deep breath and realised that you really wanted to take a shower and then maybe go make him some coffee. He stirred slightly as you tried to creep out of bed, but you froze and then moved super stealthily towards the bathroom, leaving him sleeping.</p><p>As you stood in the hot shower, you thought about the night before. It had been…good. So good.  As much as Dean had been right about you not loving the expression ‘making love’, that was what it had felt like.</p><p>And something in you had changed. Being close to him like that had melted whatever wall of ice had been separating the two of you since the accident. You’d thought you might feel weird but you didn’t. You felt happy and in love and it didn’t seem to matter that perhaps you didn’t remember the times before when you’d- wait…</p><p>You stopped still in the shower, mid scrub. The memories…maybe not all but some. They were there. You remembered now, the strange unlocking feeling that you hadn’t been able to focus on last night distracted as you were by…Dean.</p><p>You were sure they weren’t all back but some…some were there. You could pick them up and look at them without them disappearing. You could examine and replay them.</p><p>You remembered the naughty fun of playing ‘cowboy’ and ‘Father Dean’…even ‘Mr Winchester’ who kept you after class. There had been other games too. You remembered now. Dr Winchester. And the ‘how many times can I make you come in one night’ game.</p><p>You remembered the bathroom stall after the fight, him pushing you up against the walls of the cubicle. ‘You don’t have to be jealous, baby. I’m all yours.’ He said. ‘I’m not jealous.’ You lied as his hand snaked its way into your panties. He bit his bottom lip as he sunk his fingers into you. ‘OK. You’re not jealous.’ He said, humouring you. ‘But why don’t you let me show you how ‘yours’ I am anyway, every…last…inch of me.’</p><p>You remembered other nights where it had been more intense. A night in a motel when he held you down, hard against the mattress. ‘Not until you beg me’ He said. ‘If you beg real nice, I’ll fuck you good and hard so you’ll feel me every time you move for a week.’</p><p>The way that previously after a hunt, you’d drunk to try and wear out the post fight high, to ride out the way the adrenaline still buzzed as it coursed through you, now…now you’d found other ways to burn it off. You remembered driving back from a hunt, kissing his neck and running your hand over the denim of his jeans, teasing him as he drove, until he pulled you over and fucked you hard on Baby’s still warm hood. ‘Oh baby, you’re takin’ me so good. Letting me fuck you hard and dirty, here, outside where anyone could see. Bein’ such a dirty whore for me, just for me.’ The way after, he’d kissed you on the neck and said, ‘You know I don’t think you’re actually a dirty whore, right? That I love you. That was just…talk. You know that, right?’ and the way you’d had to reassure him that you knew.</p><p>That one made your cheeks warm, there, alone in the shower.</p><p>You didn’t remember everything. Still didn’t remember, say, the kitchen floor or breaking the lamp in the library or your anniversary in the back of Baby. But you remembered a lot. Many memories of the both of you together like that. Some were fun. Some were hot and heavy. Some were soft and loving.</p><p>And then….</p><p>Then there was the first night you’d been together.</p><p>You remembered it. And more than that, you could recall the feelings you’d had as if it had just been yesterday. The nerves that turned into excitement that turned into need. How blown away you were by how good he looked naked, how good at he was at…everything. The thrill of feeling his hands on you. His lips. The way he’d looked at you when he first pushed himself into you. It had been different. That had been the look of ‘I can’t believe we get to do this and man, does it feel good.’ Last night it had been the look of ‘Again. Finally. Like this. With you. Home.’</p><p>You could replay it in your mind. The sounds. The words. The feelings. The positions. They were all just there. They were back. Between them and the way you felt so close to him after last night. You didn’t think you’d ever been happier.</p><p>You turned the shower off and heard the sound of Dean walking on the floorboards outside the bathroom door.</p><p>“Dean!” You shouted, unable to keep the excitement in your voice.</p><p>You stepped out the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself as he opened the door. He still looked half asleep with his bed hair and he was rubbing his eyes as he leaned against the door frame in his t shirt and boxers.</p><p>“Mornin’ sweetheart. I was goin’ to make coffee. I wanted to wake up with you but you were gone.” He said sounding a little forlorn.</p><p>“I’m sorry, baby. I needed a shower. You can wake up with me tomorrow.”</p><p>You took in the look on his face at hearing you call him ‘baby’ and then at the idea that he got to wake up with you tomorrow. You realised part of him may have been worried you’d wake up this morning and freak out and maybe pull away from him once more.</p><p>“Hey…guess what?” You said, excitedly.</p><p>“What?” He said, opening his eyes wide as he grinned at you, playing along.</p><p>“I remembered some stuff.”</p><p>“Yeah? What stuff?”</p><p>“Some but not all of the times we were together. But the first time. I remembered the first time.”</p><p>He looked at you happy but silent.</p><p>“Sex, dean. I remembered, the sex.”</p><p>He laughed. “Yeah, I got that.” He grinned so hard, his cheeks dimpled. He stepped towards you, effectively walking you backwards, back into the shower. “I can’t believe you remembered.”</p><p>You smiled at him, and then bit your lower lip as he reached behind you and turned the water back on.</p><p>“We should celebrate.” He said, stepping closer to you as his smile became his daring, sexy smirk.</p><p>“I already showered.” You teased.</p><p>“I didn’t.” He said, slipping his t shirt over his head and pulling his boxers down.</p><p>“Fine.” You said, dropping your towel and play acting indifference though in truth you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more than to shower with the gorgeous, sexy, man in front of you, walking you back under the stream of hot water.</p><p>“Wait.” He said, stopping halfway through leaning into kiss you. “Did I fuck your memories back into you?”</p><p>“Dean!” You said, sounding outraged but knowing he said stuff like that just to get a rise out of you.</p><p>“No, seriously. Am I magic? If we do it again, maybe you’ll remember something else!”</p><p>You laughed against his kiss. “I don’t know. Maybe we should find out?” You said, as he pushed you up against the shower wall.</p><p>You didn’t find out what Day 7 or 8 would have had in store because those days were spent in other ways. Arguably less traditionally festive ways but ones that were fun all the same. Days that involved eating leftover ‘Winchester Surprise’ and not leaving the cabin. Not once. And some more memories returning. And you having to say more than once, “No Dean, I don’t think your cock is magic.’ Although also, it kind of was.</p><p>On Day 9, you drove back to the bunker. It should have been a half a day’s drive but the pre-holiday traffic and the snow at the start of the drive made it take much longer, though it was gone by the time you hit Lebanon, as was most of the day.</p><p>When you eventually got home, you saw Sam in the kitchen drinking coffee as he looked at his iPad.</p><p>“Sammy!” You shouted loudly, doing your best impression of Dean. He smiled as he got up and hugged you.</p><p>“Someone’s in a good moo-…oh.” He said, as he looked past you at Dean, who had come in behind you and was currently getting himself a beer from the fridge, his warm, gentle smile at seeing you changing into a smirk. “So…the time at the cabin, was good then, huh?” He said, grinning at you, like he knew exactly what you’d been up to.</p><p>“What?” You said.</p><p>He leaned in and whispered. “Dean has his ‘I got laid’ face on…” He pulled back and looked at you. “And so do you.”</p><p>“What? I do not…wait…” You looked at him, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. “So do you? Did you happen to go to the coffee shop in town while we were away? Maybe spend some time with a waitress that has a little thing for you?”</p><p>“What? No.” He said, his face creasing with unconvincing false innocence.</p><p>“Dean!” You shouted, in the sing song teasing voice you used to mess with Sam. “Sam’s got a girlfriend.”</p><p>Dean walked over to where you were both stood. “Good for you, little bro. Are you in love, yet?”</p><p>“Wha-“ Sam stopped himself, with a huff, as he bitch faced at the both of you. “No.”</p><p>“I’m only teasing, Sammy.” He said, playfully, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “Though, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you were.”</p><p>“We just…hung out a little bit. She’s not my girlfriend.” He said.</p><p>“Well, that’s a shame. Because, y’know…having a girlfriend…it’s really not that bad. Kinda awesome, actually.”</p><p>You caught the momentary flicker in his eyes as he looked at you, suddenly unsure if it was OK for him to call you that and you smiled back.</p><p>“That’s only because your girlfriend is incredibly patient and understanding and very, very cool.” You said back, as a way of letting him know that it was OK.</p><p>“Oh God.” Sam said, “It’s back to wearing the noise cancelling headphones at night, isn’t it?”</p><p>“What?! No!” You shouted at the same time as Dean said “Sure is, Sammy.”</p><p>Sam looked at you and rolled his eyes. “The sacrifices I have to make sure you two are happy.” And then he put his arm around your shoulder, his face breaking into a smile. “Don’t worry. They’re worth it….but also….he needs to move back into your room. It’s further away from mine.”</p><p>“What is this? I mess with you so you mess with me?” You said, laughing despite yourself as you playfully swatted his shoulder.</p><p>“Who’s messing around?” He said, laughing back. “You guys are really loud!”</p><p>“Sam!” You said, laughing through your mock outrage and very real embarrassment as Dean just creased up as he leaned against the table.</p><p>A few hours later, after you’d eaten and unpacked, you caught Dean looking troubled.</p><p>“What’s up?” You asked, sitting in the chair next to him in the library.</p><p>“Nothin’” He said, unconvincingly.</p><p>You kept your gaze on him, silent so he knew you weren’t buying it and you were waiting for a more honest answer.</p><p>“Nothing important.” He said, as if that was what he really meant.</p><p>“Wanna try that again? Third time is supposedly a charm.”</p><p>“The past few days have been….just awesome. Like…the best. Better than I even hoped for. But also…I really wanted to do this whole ‘Deanmas’ thing for you and it’s just kinda…I just feel bad. I had all these plans and I haven’t really done anything about them.”</p><p>“Are you kidding? Dean, you’ve already done so much…”</p><p>He shrugged as if he’d fallen short of a standard. An impossibly high standard that only he was aware of, it would seem.</p><p>“Well…do you regret the past few days?”</p><p>“What? Fuck, no!”</p><p>“Me neither. Day 12 is on Christmas morning, so we’ll do presents and do food. Day 11…I’d still really like to have a Day of Deanmas for me to treat you and Sam…if that’s OK? Though, I might need some time to sort a few things out tomorrow  if that’s OK.”</p><p>“Yeah. Sure. I have some stuff I need to do tomorrow anyway.”</p><p>You looked at him suspiciously, but he didn’t say anymore.</p><p>“OK….” You said, leaving his secrecy hanging in the air. “…and if we don’t regret Day 7 or 8 then…I mean…it was good right…?”</p><p>“Hell yeah, it was.” He said, his voice ringing with his firm agreement.</p><p>“And I got some more memories back. And it made me really happy. Wasn’t that the point of Deanmas, anyway?”</p><p>“Yeah,” He said, nodding his head as he conceded your point. “Kinda wish the drive back hadn’t taken so long though, maybe we coulda done something if we’d gotten back sooner.”</p><p>“Day’s not over yet.” You said, shrugging.</p><p>“It’s 10pm…..I know. I’m being a dick. I just wanted to make it all really special for you. It’s all good. It’s not a real problem. You got some more memories back and we’re good…everything’s perfect, honestly.” He smiled at you warmly.</p><p>“We can still enjoy something Christmassy, sorry ‘Deanmassy’ at 10pm.”</p><p>“Yeah? Like what?” He said, laughing as you got up and leaned down to put your arms around his neck, loosely hugging him from behind, as he stroked the skin of your forearm where it rested against his chest.</p><p>“You mean, you didn’t hear?” You said, making your voice lower and quieter as you talked into his ear. “About the Christmas Sale?”</p><p>“What?” He said, laughing.</p><p>“At Miss Kitty’s Saloon? There’s a Christmas Sale…but she can only let her best girl go to whoever won in the quick draw at High Noon…hey…wait a minute? Wasn’t that you?”</p><p>He turned his face to look at you, his eyebrow raised and smirk on his face, “You know what…it was…that was me. I smoked that son of a bitch, right there outside the courthouse.”</p><p>“Well…maybe you should tie up your steed and get yourself some firewater and meet Miss Kitty’s best girl in her room at the saloon in say, ten minutes? Have a little holiday fun, what do you say, cowboy?”</p><p>“L’il Lady…nothin’ in the world would make me happier.”</p><p>You laughed slightly as you kissed him on the back of the head, making your way out of the library, hearing him say, as you left…</p><p>“Man, Deanmas is the fucking best!”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Day 10, you woke up in Dean’s arms, in your bed, in your room. You were the little spoon to his big one. He hadn’t moved back in, saying that there was no need to rush things, no need to move too fast. But you both had been mindful of Sam’s request that Dean stay in your room, for….volume control reasons…</p><p>As you stretched a little, he stirred, kissing you softly on the side of your neck.</p><p>“Mornin’ sweetheart.” He said, his voice deep and hoarse still from his slumber.</p><p>“Mmmm….mornin’.”</p><p>“God…love waking’ up with you right here, like this.”</p><p>“Like old times?”</p><p>“No. Like ‘now’ times.” He said, nuzzling in and pulling you closer.</p><p>“I’ve got some stuff to do today. To get ready for my day of Deanmas.” You said, wondering just how you were going to pull off something good enough for the boys.</p><p>“Yeah…that’s cool. I have some stuff to do today too.”</p><p>“Yeah? Like, what?” You asked, your curiosity piqued.</p><p>“Just…stuff.” He said, enigmatically. “But I don’t have to do anything yet. Got time to make you some breakfast first….and to say ‘Good Morning.’” He said, rolling his hips against your lower back so you felt his hardness.</p><p>“We already said ‘Good Morning’.” You teased.</p><p>“Not all of me.” He said, kissing against your neck as his hand trailed down your side.</p><p>image<br/>You tried and tried to get him to tell you what he was doing that morning all over breakfast but he would not be broken and eventually you gave up. Though it was unlike him to keep so quiet about something you were so insistent on knowing. Or you thought it was anyway, not all your memories had come back so you weren’t really sure. But it seemed uncharacteristic, all the same.</p><p>You were just dressing, after your shower, when you heard Sam’s voice roaring through the bunker.</p><p>“Y/N?! You gotta come here. Now!”</p><p>Panicked, you ran towards Sam’s voice in the kitchen, wondering what the hell had happened. Hoping nothing was too badly wrong.</p><p>When you walked in, you saw Sam doubled over in hysterical laughter and….Santa?</p><p>“Dean?” You asked, unsure if your eyes weren’t deceiving you.</p><p>“Did you really have to do that?” Dean asked Sam in annoyance.</p><p>“Yes. Yes, I did.” Sam said through belly laughter so hard it was making him cry. You couldn’t deny, the sight of Dean dressed head to toe in a Santa outfit, huge black boots, padding adding many inches to his middle, long fake beard and Santa hat over a white wig, was undeniably amusing. You couldn’t help it. Soon you were laughing too. Hard.</p><p>“Oh….my…God! This is what you were busy doing? Getting Santa-fied?” You asked. “Is this for Deanmas?”</p><p>“Sort of…..but not for you. I coulda lived without you seeing me like this. I was trying to sneak out but this asshat…” He glared at Sam. “….saw me and apparently couldn’t keep a secret to himself!”</p><p>“I regret nothing.” Sam said, defiantly as he continued to chuckle.</p><p>“Wait! This isn’t for us? Who’s it for?” You asked, genuinely confused.</p><p>“Do you remember earlier this year? The shtriga? Two towns over?”</p><p>Unfortunately, you did not. You shook your head, sadly, as Sam said he did.</p><p>“It’s OK.” Dean said, seeing your disappointment. All his annoyance at being caught out vanished from his voice, replaced with reassuring gentleness instead. “It wasn’t that much before Cedar Rapids. It’ll come back to you.”</p><p>You smiled at him to let him know it was OK. “So….this case?”</p><p>“There were a few kids in the hospital and the boys, the ones who were next in line…their little sister was already in a coma…..?” He looked at Sam for recognition.</p><p>“Sure. I remember. Jake and Josh, right? The little sister was Taylor?”</p><p>“Right. Exactly. When she was in hospital they found out she had something wrong with her heart. Nothing to do with the shtriga, though I’m pretty sure that didn’t help. And she’s in the hospital over the holidays and the Children’s Hospital didn’t have a Santa this year so….”</p><p>“Wait….how do you know all this?” You asked.</p><p>“Dean got on really well with one of the boys. Jake.” Sam explained. </p><p>“Yeah. Kid likes me,” Dean said, shrugging as in a ‘Go Figure’ gesture, “…and he’s awesome. Just a really great kid. You’d like him. After the case, he asked his mom if he could send me these pictures he drew. Honestly, they are so good. Sometimes, he sends me letters with them and he said about his sister and…..whatever….I thought I’d help.”</p><p>He looked mortified. But what he was doing was such a kind and wonderful thing. </p><p>“Dude, that’s nice.” Sam said, his voice soft with regret at having teased him so hard for doing something so charitable.</p><p>“Yeah, why were you skulking about in secret?”</p><p>“It’s not a big deal.” He said, sounding embarrassed.</p><p>You walked over to him and pulled down his beard, just slightly, to kiss him gently on the cheek.</p><p>“It is. It’s a really big deal. It’s awesome and kind and the absolute epitome of Deanmas. I love that you’re doing it. And I love you, ‘Santa Dean’.”</p><p>“Really……..?” He asked, his voice getting that flirtatious, sexy tone to it and making you grin despite yourself. “Wanna play ‘Bad Santa’ later?”</p><p>“Ewww!” Sam said, leaving the kitchen abruptly.</p><p>You laughed. “Santa is a sweet, benevolent old man who brings toys to kids. I definitely do not want to sully that by playing ‘Bad Santa.’ But after, when you’re out of that costume? We can play ‘Good Dean does a lovely thing and I’m so proud of him and think he deserves whatever reward he wants.’ How ‘bout that?”</p><p>He pulled down his beard and kissed you. “Deal!” He said. </p><p>After he’d gone, you got to work trying to plan and organise your Deanmas day for the boys. It was going to be tough. You’d thought of an idea but turning it all around in a day was going to be hard work. There were phone calls to make and favours to call in. It was a logistical nightmare but it would be worth it. You loved them both so much. You didn’t know how you’d have managed without them after the year you’d had. You would have, because you were tough and you definitely would have found a way, but you were beyond grateful that you didn’t have to find out how much darker and harder that would have been.</p><p>Organising took most of the day. You took a break for a late lunch where Sam tried to pry clues from you about what the next day might entail, but you were firm in keeping your secrets for the big reveal. </p><p>Dean sent some photos to your phone of him at the hospital and they melted your heart. Dean dressed as Santa with all the kids, some really sick ones. You knew what he was like with kids. He was so good with them. You were glad that if those kids had to be in hospital, that at least Dean would bring a smile to their faces today. Every time you thought you knew how great he was he just….got better. You understood what he meant about falling deeper and deeper. That’s what it felt like. Endless ways he impressed you and made you proud. You wondered if that was what it had been like before. Probably. He was kind of amazing like that. He sent more photos. These of him and the kids from the shtriga case. The kids looked like they loved him. Like they were happy he was there. ‘Merry Deanmas, little guys and gal.’ you thought, genuinely hoping the New Year would bring them all health and happiness. And you couldn’t have been prouder of Dean.</p><p>Apparently, the other wards in the hospital had no Santa either and Dean had stepped up to bring cheer to the other patients. He’d called on a quick break to explain that he might be back a later than he’d originally thought.</p><p>“Do you need us to come help out?” You asked. “I could try and throw together some outfits and Sam and I could be elves or something?”</p><p>“Sweetheart, some of these kids are sick. I’m not sure seeing Sam as an 8 foot elf wouldn’t finish ‘em off. Though I would love to see him in the boots though….And thank you but no, I’m good. It’s actually been nice. Hard to see how sick some of the kids are but nice to feel like I’m doing something good, y’know? And it was good to see Jake and Josh and their family. It’s all fine. I’ll be back soon, OK?”</p><p>“OK….and Dean….”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“You’re the best.”</p><p>He laughed. “Well, sweetheart, that sounds like something you should be saying later on tonight.”</p><p>You rolled your eyes even though you were on the phone. </p><p>“You’re such an ass!” You said, laughing.</p><p>“How can I go from being ‘the best’ to bein’ an ‘ass’ so fast?”</p><p>“I don’t know, but somehow you manage.”</p><p>You were watching TV with Sam when he got home. </p><p>“Hey! How was it?” You asked as he stuck his head round Sam’s bedroom door. He was still in the Santa suit but he’d lost the beard and wig.</p><p>“Good. What you watchin’?”</p><p>“Charlie Brown’s Christmas Special.” Said Sam.</p><p>“We’re about half way through. Wanna come watch?” You added.</p><p>“Nah…I’m going to go make myself a sandwich.”</p><p>“OK. I’ll come find you when it’s finished?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>He wasn’t in the kitchen when you looked after your show ended and you’d said ‘Goodnight’ to Sam. Maybe he was tired and had gone straight to bed, you thought, making the way to your room to see if he was there.</p><p>You found him sitting on the chair in the corner of the room. He wasn’t in the Santa outfit anymore. He was instead wearing a pair of red silk boxers. Them and the boots and the hat. He was leaning back in the chair, taking a sip from his beer. He smiled at you as you entered, raising his eyebrow sexily. You shut the door behind you and laughed.</p><p>“Wow. That is….quite a look you got going on there.”</p><p>“You told me when I was out of the costume….we could play. I’m out of the costume. Mostly.”</p><p>His grin got even wider as he watched your face, knowing you were finding him cute despite yourself. He raised both his eyebrows in quick succession, playfully, and motioned for you to come over, tapping the tops of his thighs. “Why don’t you come over here and sit on my lap and tell me if you’ve been a nice or naughty this year?” He said, the grin not wavering once.</p><p>You made your way over, standing in front on him but not sitting on his lap. “I told you, Santa is a kind, old guy. Like a Grandpa or something. I don’t find him sexy.” You said, laughing, anyway.</p><p>“But, I’m not Santa. I’m ‘Good Dean who did a nice thing and now gets what he wants’…that’s what you said, right?”</p><p>You had said that. You looked at him, unable to keep from smiling. He tapped the tops of his thighs again and as you still hesitated, reached forward and guided you, not hard but insistently, to sit on his lap.</p><p>“Fine…’Santa Dean’, ‘Good Dean’….whatever….” You giggled at the ridiculousness of the way he had his arms around you, like you were an actual kid on Santa’s lap and at the Santa’s hat, slightly askew on the top of his head, his smiling green eyes beaming at you. “…you’re right, that is what I said. You were promised a reward for good deeds above and beyond the call of duty. So…what would you like?”</p><p>“Well,” He said, looking at you playful but sweet. “…first off, why don’t you tell me what you’d like for Christmas?”</p><p>“Hmmm….well, you know, I’m not sure I’m one for Christmas.” You said, biting the inside of your lip, as you smiled at him. “I’m kind of into Deanmas now.”</p><p>“Well….that’s good. Because Santa looks after Christmas…and I look after Deanmas. So that’s perfect….but you still get a Christmas present…so, what would you like?”</p><p>You actually tried to come up with a more honest answer now. You smiled at him, putting your arms loosely around his shoulders.</p><p>“Nothing. I already have the best boyfriend in all the world.”</p><p>“Oh, you do, huh?” He said, his grin deepening to reveal the dimples just by it.</p><p>“Mmm hmmm. I’d like for him to be happy. And for him to know that I love him. And that I’m so grateful for all the Deanmas fun we’ve had and how special he’s made the past few weeks…well months….just forever really.”</p><p>He laughed, “I thought your memory wasn’t so good. ‘Forever’? Maybe I was a huge ass all those years?”</p><p>“Oh, you definitely were.” You deadpanned. “…doesn’t mean you don’t make things special.”</p><p>He nodded at you, to show that he got your joke and was humouring your good natured ribbing at his expense. “Just gifted like that, I guess……What about your memories? What if I could get them back for you?” He sounded more serious now.</p><p>“If you could, I know you would….and yeah, I’d really like them back…but I think that might be out of either of our control for now. I’m glad I got some back. I’m feeling slightly more hopeful about the other’s returning….” You paused, allowing yourself to be totally honest for a second, “…I don’t think I’m ever going to be OK about the memories or the time I’ve lost….that can’t be helped. But I have some memories and we have some time….we have ‘now’….and although it’s not the same…it’s something. And like I said, I have the best boyfriend in the world.”</p><p>He smiled at you, as he ran his hand up your back and affectionately stroked the nape of your neck. “Yeah?” He asked, softly.</p><p>You nodded.</p><p>“Nothing else you want?”</p><p>You looked up and squinted one eye, as if you were really thinking hard. “Um….I’d like my boyfriend to know how great he is, a girlfriend for my friend Sam and a 1967 Chevy Impala….”</p><p>He laughed loudly at that. “Sweetheart, let’s not get carried away….”</p><p>You laughed back and kissed him softly on the lips. When you pulled back, he bit his lower lip as he looked into your eyes, and then grinned flirtatiously. It was not wasted on you that he was pretty much naked apart from the thin silk layer of his boxers. Oh and the boots and hat, of course.</p><p>“So…you didn’t tell me whether you’ve been naughty or nice, this year….” He said, pouting slightly as his look - the cheeky grin, the dimpled cheek, the swagger in his eyebrow raise and head tilt – all dared you to play along.</p><p>You huffed slightly, still smiling. You shrugged. “Well, I try ever so hard to be a good girl.” You said, leaning in, closer to him, as you sat on his lap. “But sometimes…I guess, I can’t help but be a little bit bad.”</p><p>“Yeah?” He asked, his voice suddenly lower and quieter.</p><p>You shrugged at him, in mock innocence.</p><p>His eyes travelled all the way down your body and up again, slowly, appraisingly. “I think…you are very nice.” He said, before tilting his head, slightly to look up at you, with those sparkling emerald eyes, under those thick, full lashes. “…so…I guess I wondered if you wanna get naughty with me?”</p><p>You bit your lower lip now, the way you knew drove him crazy. “Like I said, sometimes I can’t help but be a little bit bad.”</p><p>“Yeah?” He said, not really asking so much as smirking as he tilted his lap, to get you closer, and kissed you.</p><p>“Mmm hmmm…” You answered, into his kiss. Unable to stop yourself from laughing, happily, as his hands began moving over you, and one by one, even these last vestiges of the Santa outfit were lost.</p><p>.</p><p>The next day, as much, as you wanted to stick around and have a long, lazy morning with Dean, you had stuff to do. You wanted your Deanmas surprise for the boys to go perfectly.</p><p>You left him in bed, with a kiss on his forehead and strict instructions as to when and where he and Sam should meet you later.</p><p>Then you made your way to the bar on the other side of town. It had used to be a real dive; dirty and cheap but also kind of fun, though that was years and years ago. You and the boys had used to just drink here, Dean used to love it and it was exactly the sort of place to make easy money hustling pool. It was by complete accident that one night you’d been there, making small talk with the guy who owned the bar, Rick, when Sam came back from Men’s Room talking about how the temperature had dropped on his way back.</p><p>“Oh….yeah…that happens….” Rick had said, you and Sam both noting the strange look on his face.</p><p>“Anything else weird happen around here, Rick?” You’d asked, taking in the fear on his face.</p><p>“It’s OK.” Sam had said. “You can tell us. Even if it sounds weird.”</p><p>You had just started coaxing the truth out of Rick, it becoming more and more apparent with each passing comment he said that the bar was haunted and that Rick had thought he was going crazy, when Dean joined you all at the bar, fresh from the pool table.</p><p>“Pal, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…..” He had looked between the three of you, taking in the curiosity on yours and Sam’s faces and the fear of ridicule on Rick’s. “….Oh, you have? You’ve seen a ghost? OK.”</p><p>It had hardly been in line with the ‘softly, softly’ approach that you and Sam had been using. You both turned and looked at him.</p><p>“Why the double ‘bitch face’? I just won us $300 dollars. Next round? On me!….So, what’s the deal with this ‘Casper’? Want us to ice it for you, or what?”</p><p>Between you, you’d given Rick, ‘The Talk’ and gotten rid of the ghosts fairly easily and before they could hurt anyone and it had earned you Rick’s undying gratitude. The bar had undergone many facelifts over the years, most involving some kind of ‘theme’ and the boys weren’t really into themed drinking. So it had been a while since you’d been here.</p><p>When you entered the empty bar, you were met by the manager.</p><p>“The owner said to give you whatever you need. I don’t know what you did for Rick but he doesn’t do a whole lot free for many people, so it must’ve been big.” He said, as you went over the long list of things you had discussed over the phone, with Rick, the day before.</p><p>The boys met you in front of the bar in the late afternoon.</p><p>“Ricky’s Tiki Hut?” Dean said, incredulously, his eyebrow raised curiously. Sam looked just as confused.</p><p>“Just…..bear with me.” You said, leading them round to the back entrance which opened into the back function room.</p><p>You led them in, and as they took it all in, their looks of perplexed bafflement were softened with the beginnings of slight smiles.</p><p>The décor was all set up to look like a Hawaiian style beach shack, in keeping with the style of the theme bar. The big murals along the walls looked like a beach view from morning to night depending on where you looked; a colourful tropical sunrise through a blazing clear day through a rich sunset into a night sky full of stars. There was a large screen on one wall that played an endless loop of an ocean with waves crashing against a shore with an accompanying synced soundtrack that played throughout the room, along with soft luau music that could be heard just under the sound of the rolling waves. In front of that screen was a ‘sand pit’, fresh soft sand that you had gotten added just for the day, with three beach chairs set up in it and a few towels. The room was warm due to the heat lamps, with realistic looking indoor tiki torches ‘ablaze.’ The smells of oceanic sea spray and fruity cocktails and coconuts were pumped in through the airducts along with fans that created a fake but pleasant ‘breeze’. It wasn’t as good as Hawaii, but it was as good as you were gonna get in Kansas.</p><p>“What…is…this?” Sam asked, laughing slightly as he turned around, taking it all in.</p><p>“You might want to take your shoes off and roll your jeans up.” You said smiling as you led them over to the chairs set up in the sand. They did just that and sat, still looking slightly unsure though not displeased as bar staff brought a wide selection of cocktails in on trays, setting them up on a table in front of the chairs, as well as a cooler of beers in ice.</p><p>Once you were all settled, you sat on the chair between both the boys, with them still looking expectantly at you as they grabbed a drink each, you explained.</p><p>“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve said that one day, you wanted a beautiful beach vacation. Toes in the sand, sun on your face, drink in your hands….I’ve never managed to make you take one. As far as I recall anyway?” You paused and they both shook their heads, smiles widening slightly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought…there’s always a hunt. Or an apocalypse. And Dean hates flying so I couldn’t just…take you to Hawaii….even if I could force you to take a break. So…I know it’s not the same. But it’s a little taste of it. Heat lamps and ‘painted pictures of the sun’ on your faces, sand between your toes, drinks in your hands….the sound of the sea and….” You reached behind your seat and pulled out a water gun…shooting them both lightly with it, earning you a surprised and slightly amused reaction. ”…that’s salt water in lieu of sea spray. There’s food coming up. And we can change the music. I got some classic rock and Christmas songs at the ready….it’s not the same as an actual trip away…but we have the bar for the day…and I just wanted you to know that even if this is the best I could arrange at such short notice, I think you guys deserve the best beach, the very best vacation…the best of everything. Always. And I love you both. And…well, Dean said to me when we were at Donna’s cabin that whatever made me happy , he wanted to do….well, same. For the both of you. And thank you for being the best guys ever. And helping me through this….challenging year. And….” You lifted your glass for them to ‘clink’ against yours in a toast. “…Merry Deanmas!”</p><p>They looked a bit taken aback still as they lifted their glasses and said ‘Merry Deanmas’ back, which made you worry slightly.</p><p>“Is it lame? I just wanted to do something nice for you both because you’re so great and you mean so much to me….but…I do know it’s not as good as going to actual Hawaii…” You felt a bit disappointed. It had seemed like such a great idea in your head but know…it felt like you’d just taken them to a bar, which you guessed you kind of had.</p><p>“It’s better.” Dean said, still taking in his surroundings before his eyes settled on you. “Because I don’t have to get on one of those ‘Deathcrafts’…”</p><p>“They’re just planes, Dean-“ Sam started but Dean cut him off.</p><p>He looked slightly aggrieved. “I know that, Sam. Don’t act like I’ve never been on one.”</p><p>“You were a giant baby on one.” Sam said, half under his voice but still obviously audible.</p><p>“I went for Bobby too, that time. All the way to fucking Scotland. And I’d go on vacation. I would. The three of us. I’d want to go.” He said, looking at you eagerly and earnestly.</p><p>“You would?” You asked.</p><p>“I’m not saying I’d love the flying part. But I’d do it and we’d make some awesome memories…I would do it, for sure. But…” He said, grinning at you, “Now I don’t have to!” He leaned over to give you a sweet little heartfelt kiss. “Y/N, I said for me the whole Christmas gig was about….’togetherness’ and the ‘thoughtfulness’….and you gave me, all of us, the thing we’ve been talking about forever and never thought we’d end up actually doing.” He reached over to hold your hand for a moment. “Sweetheart, you knocked it outta the park.”</p><p>You shrugged, not sure if he was just being nice but he squeezed your hand and leant his head towards you so you had to look into his eyes, had to see the sincerity. “You thought about what I always said I wanted…what I always wanted for us all…and you made it happen.“</p><p>“It’s not an actual holiday-“</p><p>“It’s you, me and Sam…with sand between our toes and drinks in our hands and songs and sun and snacks….it’s perfect. You lassoed me the moon. Thank you. I mean it. I love it. I love you.”</p><p>“Well…you gave me a Christmas card made real.”</p><p>“And you gave me a post card made real.”</p><p>You were aware that it was getting romantic and intense so you turned to Sam not wanting him to be left out.</p><p>“This isn’t just for Dean, you know? It’s every bit as much for you. I know you don’t have a thing about flying but I also know you wouldn’t go without Dean….wouldn’t have as much fun-“</p><p>“Damn straight!” Dean interjected.</p><p>“…and I want you to be happy just as much.”</p><p>“I never gave you a Christmas card made real.” He said, smiling.</p><p>“You gave me one of the best friends I’ve ever had. You gave me a home. You gave me ‘family.’ You both have. You’ve given me more than you’ll ever know.”</p><p>He reached over and pulled you into one of his big Sam hugs. “I can’t believe Dean ended up with someone who makes speeches that sound so much like they belong in a chick flick.”</p><p>You smiled at him. “Speech? That was barely an aside…” And you winked as he laughed, remembering you saying that in the kitchen, less than two short weeks ago. Two short weeks that felt like a life time.</p><p>So you sat and you drank and you talked and you laughed. At some point the music changed and songs the three of you liked started to play over the sound of the ocean, some of them holding memories from long road trips in Baby and other happy times. Some of those memories came to you easily and some didn’t but you smiled anyway, whatever the case.</p><p>The bar staff brought in food and you ate…pizza and burgers and salads, the latter for Sam though he treated himself to a little of everything. Then they brought in the assortment of pies you had specifically arranged from the diner Dean liked in town, which made Dean’s eyes light up. He was so overjoyed he actually clapped his hands in glee although then he caught himself and looked embarrassed by such a display of childlike joy, so you didn’t make a big thing of it.</p><p>“If there was something you liked as much as Dean likes pie, I’d have arranged it for you…” You said to Sam.</p><p>“No one likes anything as much as Dean likes pie.” He laughed. “But thank you.” He shook his head. “I don’t need anything. We’re together and it’s good. Honestly…thank you for today. I had a lot of fun. And it’s good to see Dean so happy. And you. I know your memory isn’t properly back but I feel like you are getting back to your old self. That in itself is enough of a Christmas present for me.”</p><p>“Deanmas present.” You corrected. And he rolled his eyes at you.</p><p>“This is gonna be a thing every year now, isn’t it?” He said, through a deep, if not exaggerated, sigh of tested patience.</p><p>“I think so.” You said, laughing slightly as Dean tucked into his third slice of pie in five minutes, closing his eyes in bliss as he tasted it. “I kinda hope so.”</p><p>.</p><p>Day 12 was Christmas morning. The three of you sat, you and Dean in your grey robes and Sam in his charcoal grey PJ’s, in the War Room by the tree. Of all the days of Deanmas, today was the most traditional as you shared and opened gifts.</p><p>Sam had loved the bookends Dean had got him, as you knew he would, although he still didn’t look over the moon with the ‘Moose’ nickname. He’d also liked the jacket you’d bought him.</p><p>“You’re going to have to look nice if you’re going to be taking ‘Coffee Shop Girl’ out on dates and stuff.” You’d said, when you he hugged you in thanks. He huffed at that slightly as if you were being ridiculous but then said…</p><p>“Katherine…..her name…it’s Katherine.”</p><p>“Mmm hmm?” You said, as if there was merely an interesting piece of information and not wanting to tease him about it. He deserved to be happy. You hoped he would be.</p><p>He handed you your gift and you unwrapped it, revealing a photo album.</p><p>“I didn’t have loads of photos but Dean had some and Donna, Alex…Garth…a few of the other hunters we know. Um…I didn’t know if you’d like it or it would be weird so if it’s not right for right now, by all means put it away, I know it was too soon for anything like this before…but I thought you might like it…now….”</p><p>You opened it and flicked through the pictures. There was one of you and the boys at Jody’s with the girls, with Garth and Bess and their little ones.</p><p>“Awww…Big Sam holding Little Sam!” You said, smiling.</p><p>One of you and Donna. Some of you and both brothers. Some of you and Sam. Some of you and Dean.</p><p>Some you remembered. Some you didn’t. In some you all just looked like great, close friends. In a few of the ones of you and Dean, you looked….more than that. You looked like a couple blissfully in love. You hoped one day, you would remember all of these moments clearly, but for now the most important thing was that they didn’t hurt you or scare you and they didn’t fill you with rage or sadness at what had been lost, not like they would have before. That was something. That was a lot.</p><p>“My turn!” You said, excitedly, handing the both of them envelopes, which they tore open straight away.</p><p>“What’s this?” Dean asked, not unkindly, but definitely confused. Sam’s creased brow reflected the same sentiment.</p><p>“What does it look like?”</p><p>“It looks like a reservation for a number of hotels…and nice hotels…in California?!”</p><p>“Why would we go to….what?” Sam said, trailing off as he waited for you to explain.</p><p>“Well…yesterday was fun, right? And I meant what I said, you guys deserve to have the vacation, the break, you’ve always talked about. And you can do it any time, I know that, our credit cards don’t have limits…but…you won’t. I know you won’t. So….I’m making you. And we’re going to go actually feel the sand between our toes and the sun on our faces, and we’re gonna drive Baby up the PCH and we’re not going to spend too long in LA…but I thought we could stop in Santa Cruz…you could see all the places where the filmed ‘The Lost Boys’ because I know you love that movie Dean…and Sam they have these ‘True Crime Tours’ and well, I made reservations at the nice hotels so we have to go. Because I’ll make us go. But what we do and what we see, we can figure that out. We can just get in Baby, Driver can pick the music, we can all sing along…and…you’re getting that vacation. I know you said, you’d fly Dean but….” You shrugged. “You don’t have to. There are some pretty beautiful beaches to be seen without you having to do a single thing you don’t want to. And we’ll go. The three of us. Or four…Sam, if you want to bring Katherine…and we’ll make new memories. For all of us.”</p><p>Sam smiled at you and gave you a hug. “What do you see on the ‘True Crime Tour’?” He asked.</p><p>“There are actually a few.” You said, laughing, as he grabbed his iPad and headed to the kitchen to research the different tour options over coffee.</p><p>Dean gave you a big hug too and then pulled you in for a kiss. “So you gave me a ‘post card made real’ and then the actual happy ending too?”</p><p>“Dean…I swear to God, if you make a joke about ‘Happy Endings’ and ‘Thai Massages’…”</p><p>He laughed and shot you a ‘You know me too well’ smile. “Alright, alright…but seriously…you’re making all this happen and I don’t even have to get on a plane? You’re the best, you know that, right?” He said, kissing you again as you laughed off the compliment. “Ready for your present now?” He asked.</p><p>“Sure.” You said, smiling as he handed you a gift. You opened the wrapping and the box inside it.</p><p>“Dean, I told you not to get me this….” You said, not angry, just confused, as you looked at the necklace you had seen in the window of the Jewellers in town the other week; the one that looked so similar to the one that had been passed down through your family for generations.</p><p>“No…what you told me…well, you said, some things were special because of what they meant…the ‘sentimental value’ or whatever? That they couldn’t just be replaced. And…I got that. I did. That’s not what I’m trying to do. I know there is nothing I can get you to make up for what you lost. No way I can…what did you say? ‘Buy back the past?’…and I’m not trying to. What you lost, I can’t replace. But it’s so like the other one and that always looked beautiful on you, so I’m sure this one will too. It isn’t the one that your Mom gave you…that her Mom gave her….but when you look at it, you’ll still think about them. About your family. About your past. You’ll still remember them. That’s worth something, right? I heard what you said when you said the old one was special and it was gone. But you can have a new one and it doesn’t have to be a ‘second best’ version. It can just be….different. And also…..you said that day…that there were some things ‘even I couldn’t fix.’ That might be right but I’ll be damned if that means I’ll ever not try. Your other necklace had a meaning to you that was special and I’d never try and replace that. But this one has a meaning too…it means that I am never not gonna try and fix whatever I can for you. I am never gonna not try and give you everything I can. And I’m never gonna not do everything in my power to make you happy. And you don’t ever have to wear that necklace. Not ever. That’s totally cool. But that’s why I got it for you. And that’s what it means. That’s what I wanted to give you…”</p><p>He looked at you, not sombre but definitely meaning every word he said. You leaned in to kiss him.</p><p>“Don’t you ever get tired of being so great? Of being the guy lassoing the moon for me?” You asked.</p><p>He pouted slightly as he looked like he was thinking about your question. Then his face broke out into a huge smile. He shook his head.</p><p>“Nah. Never. I told you back at the cabin, all I want to do, every day for the rest of my life is make you laugh, make you smile, make you happy. I love you so…..it’s a privilege…it ain’t a chore. Trust me.” He kissed you again. “Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.”</p><p>You smiled at him. “I have loved Deanmas so much. Thank you. For everything. All of it. Merry Christmas…..and, God…I really love you too.”</p><p>And then you kissed again, illuminated by the lights of the Christmas Tree in the War Room, before you joined Sam in the kitchen for coffee and spent the last Day of Deanmas, between the three of you trying to cook a Christmas Day feast, which somehow came of kind of amazing and delicious. You ate. A lot. You listened to music. You joked around. You started planning your upcoming vacation and every time it sounded like Dean or Sam was going to try and make it a working vacation, you put your foot down. ‘No hunting! It’s a vacation. Just fun….I’m not negotiating!’ You said. And you meant it. They would get the time in the sun that they deserved, if it killed you, you thought. You looked through the photo album Sam gave you with the boys telling you stories and filling in blanks as you turned the pages.</p><p>“I didn’t fill the whole album.” Sam explained. “Firstly…because I didn’t have enough photos…but also…it seemed kind of nice to leave some pages blank. So you can make new memories, take more photos….maybe on our trip or just fun days you have; with us, with Dean, with our friends…whatever….there’s space, anyway…and you can just fill up the remaining pages as you go, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah, Sam.” You said, smiling as you looked between the both of them, feeling warm and festive in your home, with your family. “I think I do.”</p>
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